Help, I'm Alive
by MusicWritesMyLife
Summary: Mark survives the plane crash, but can't imagine facing life without Lexie. Addison tries to comfort him and remind him that there are still some things worth living for. Sorry the summary isn't great. The story is better. Rating may go up.
1. Lost

**A/N: I probably shouldn't be writing more stories, but this popped into my head after the finale and wouldn't go away. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's morphed into something more like a three-shot. Because I'm writing other stuff too, don't expect super fast updates. The next chapter will probably be up next week.**

**Also, I apologize if some of the things with Addison at the beginning are wrong. I haven't seen Private Practice, so all of it is from what people have told me/fics that I've read. **

**Post S8 finale. Title comes from the song by Metric.**

* * *

Addison settled down on the couch and sighed in contentment. It had been a long day, and now she had a whole evening to herself to just relax and forget about the outside world and all its worries. Tonight, there was no surgery to worry about, no practice, no Jake, or Henry, or Amelia, or Sam; there was just her, a big glass of red wine, and some light, fluffy television. And maybe a hot bath later. The concerns of the world could wait one more night. Addison deserved some peace.

She'd just put her feet up on the ottoman when her BlackBerry rang. Right away, Addison knew it was something serious. Her cell phone rang for two reasons: work or an emergency, though, more often than not, it was work. _On the one night I have some peace_, Addison thought bitterly, as she reached for her phone.

"Hello?"

"Addison? It's Richard calling."

Richard? Addison was surprised. Richard hadn't called her in ages. He had no reason to other than to ask for a consult, and that wasn't even his place anymore because he wasn't Chief. So why would he be calling her now. Unless…

"Hi, Richard. How are you?" Addison tried her best to stay calm and not jump to any conclusions.

"I'm fine, Addie. Listen, I hate to call like this but—" he paused, and Addison could feel the dread beginning to course like ice through her veins. _Someone died. Someone in Seattle has died. _

Richard sighed. "I would have called Carolyn myself, but I don't have her number, and, well, I thought it might be better that she hear it from you."

Call Carolyn, as in Carolyn Shepherd? _Oh God._ Something happened to Derek. Or Mark. Either way, Addison couldn't take it anymore. "What happened, Richard?"

"There was a private jet with six Seattle Grace surgeons heading to Boise, Idaho, to help with their conjoined twins surgery. The plane never made it to Boise."

Addison was glad she was sitting down; had she not been, she probably would have collapsed. "Who was on the plane, Richard?" He would tell her Derek or Mark was one of them; why else would he need her to call Carolyn?

"We only just found out.. Search and Rescue is out looking for them, but it's already been almost 24 hours since the airport lost contact." Richard voice was calm, but Addison could tell he was barely keeping it together.

"Who was on that plane, Richard?" Addison demanded, unable to wait any longer.

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line before Richard spoke. "Meredith, Derek, Mark, Cristina, Arizona Robbins, and Lexie Grey."

Addison felt slightly sick. Derek, Mark,_ and_ Meredith? Why? Why did the universe have to be so cruel? "And there's no word from any of them?"

Richard sighed. "Not yet. You'll know as soon as I do."

Addison raked a hand through her hair. "Okay. Well, I'd better call Carolyn."

"Right. Thank you for doing this. And Addie?" he added right before she hung up. "I'm sorry."

Addison sighed. "I know. Thanks for calling, Richard."

For a moment after hanging up, Addison just stared at her phone. Meredith, Derek, Mark, Cristina, Lexie, and Arizona Robbins, they were all out in the middle of nowhere, dead or alive. She couldn't believe it. She'd never thought there was a day that she would pray that Meredith Grey would live after that ferryboat crash, but she was now. _Please God, let them live._

Addison stared at her phone like it was some kind of poisonous viper. She hated being the bearer of bad news, especially to Mrs Shepherd. She really hoped that Carolyn was home. She didn't have the heart to leave a message.

Thankfully, Carolyn picked up right away. "Hello?"

"Carolyn? It's Addie."

"Addie!" Addison could hear the smile in Carolyn Shepherd's voice. "What a pleasant surprise! How's LA?"

"It's great. Listen, Carolyn, the reason I was calling…" She paused and takes a deep breath, unsure of how to break the news.

"Oh, it's not about Amelia, is it?" Mrs Shepherd chuckled. She'd spent more than enough time listening to people calling her about Amelia.

"No it's not. It's about Derek. And Mark."

"Derek _and_ Mark? Have my boys been getting into trouble again?"

"Not exactly." She sighed. "Carolyn, you might want to sit down."

* * *

_Seattle hasn't changed one bit_, Addison mused as she stepped out into the dismal, grey afternoon. It wasn't raining, but the sky was gray and the air was damp. Just another reason why Addison loved L.A. so much more. She hadn't even been in Seattle for an hour, and already she was missing the sun.

It didn't take long to find a cab, and Addison directed the driver straight to the hospital, as opposed to the hotel. The flight from LAX to SeaTac wasn't very long and therefore not as exhausting as a flight to say, New York, and she needed some news right now. She had a frantic Carolyn Shepherd already packing her bags so that she could hop on a plane to Seattle at a moments notice, and she'd really love to be able to give her former mother-in-law an update. Hell, she'd really love an update.

"You visiting someone at the hospital?" the cab driver asked.

"Oh, um, yes," Addison replied hastily, yanked back to the present. "An old friend."

"Well, I hope he feels better soon." He smiled sympathetically.

"Oh…me too." Addison didn't bother explaining that her old friend wasn't a patient, but a surgeon because that would probably end up leading to her talking about Derek and Mark and the plane crash, and then she might start crying. None of those things were things she wanted to do in front of a cab driver.

The hospital was busy; people coming and going the way they always did. They didn't know the tragedy this hospital was facing, they didn't know that she wasn't here for a check-up or to visit someone, but because her best friends were in a plane crash and she had no idea if they were alive or dead. She wanted to scream at all of them to stop going about their business like nothing was wrong when the whole world was crashing down around her, but she didn't. People—the people who noticed her at least—were already giving her strange looks because she was dragging a suitcase into the hospital; if she yelled at them all, they'd just think she was even crazier.

She'd told herself that she had moved on. She had a new life in L.A., a new job, new friends. She didn't need Mark and Derek anymore, and she didn't care how they spent their time or what they did with their lives, or at least that's what she told herself. And yet, here she was, dragging her suitcase into Seattle Grace, praying with all her might to whatever God there was that Mark and Derek were still alive.

"Dr Montgomery?"

The man crossing the lobby to meet her was vaguely familiar. He was tall and well built, with thick, ginger hair, and kind, blue eyes. She was sure she had seen him here the last few times she had visited, but she couldn't remember who he was or what he did here. Addison found herself thinking that he wasn't a bad-looking man.

As he got closer, however, she realized that he had dark circles underneath those blue eyes, which were dull and hopeless. He looked like he had lost weight quickly, and everything about him exuded defeat and exhaustion. The crash was obviously taking its toll.

"Dr Webber's sorry he couldn't come and greet you himself, but he's in surgery right now."

"Right." The thought of Richard in surgery seemed unfathomable, but the hospital had to go on.

"I'm Owen Hunt, the Chief of Surgery."

Owen Hunt. She remembered him now: he was the ex-military trauma surgeon. He was a friend of Derek and Mark's too, if memory served. "I think we've met a few times before," Addison said, trying to muster a smile.

Owen nodded. "I wish I could say it's nice to have you back, Dr Montgomery, but under these circumstances…"

Addison understood what he was trying to say. "Has there been any word?"

Owen shook his head. "All we know is that the plane never made it to Boise. Search and Rescue is out looking for them, but they haven't had any luck yet."

Addison sighed. What was she going to say to Carolyn? And Amelia? "Is there anything I can do while I wait?" She needed to make herself useful so that she wouldn't keep thinking about Derek and Mark out in the wilderness.

Owen frowned. "Well, there aren't any neo-natal cases if that's what you mean. But our head of Peds was on the flight to Boise, and the department is struggling a little bit without her, especially since Alex Karev was taken off the Peds service…They could probably use a hand in the NICU," he said finally.

Alex was off Peds? This was news to Addison. "I'll see what I can do," she replied, glad to have something to keep her busy.

"Great," Owen said wearily, already turning away.

"Dr Hunt?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Do you think there might be somewhere for me to put my suitcase? I came straight from the airport, and I'd like to get to work right away."

Owen nodded, understanding filling his face. He was experiencing that same need to be working. "Of course. Why don't you leave it in my office?"

* * *

Mark was beginning to lose it. He couldn't hold on anymore. He just couldn't. It was too hard to try and hold on, knowing that Lexie wasn't going to be there when he got back. What was the point in living when the love of your life is dead? Besides, they'd already been out here for almost two whole days, and there was no sign of anyone. No one was going to find them. Help wasn't going to come. And since they weren't going to get saved, what was the point in trying to hang on?

"Mark? Mark, are you still awake?"

It took him a minute to identify the voice: it was Arizona, Arizona whose lap was currently serving as a pillow. Arizona whose wife was the mother of his child. Arizona who was normally so bubbly and cheerful and was now probably going to die. He was almost dead, and even he knew that the fact that she'd been coughing up blood for the last day was a bad sign.

He wished she'd just leave him alone. She of all people should know what he was going through; Callie had almost died a little over a year ago. Didn't she understand that he was a lost cause? Without Lexie, there was no reason to go on.

"Mark, you need to say something, okay? Otherwise, I'm going to assume that you're dying, and that's not happening." Arizona's voice was like a little persistent bug that kept on nagging and wouldn't go away. Had Mark had the energy, he might have been tempted to swat her away.

"Tell...Callie..." Mark really needed to get this said. He loved Sofia and Callie, he really did, but what was the point when Lexie was gone? Besides, it wasn't like they were going to be completely alone. Arizona would look after them.

"No," Arizona insisted, reading his mind. "You aren't dying, Mark, you hear me? Lexie would want you to live."

"I...need...her..." Mark stopped to take a breath. "She's waiting...for me...'Zona."

"No she's not. She's not waiting for anyone." It sounded more like Arizona was trying to convince herself than she was Mark. "Help _is_ coming. We're going to be rescued."

"You...are," he mumbled feebly. "Not me."

"Mark, just hold on, okay? Please?"

He couldn't do it anymore. But it didn't matter because Lexie was waiting for him. Everything was going to be all right once he was with Lexie.

The world was beginning to fade to black when he heard a voice calling from far away, "We're saved! WE'RE SAVED!"

_At least everyone else will make it out okay,_ he told himself, as he felt his strength ebbing. The waves of blackness were getting stronger and stronger; everything else was fading away. The end was here.

_ I'm coming Lexie_, was his last thought. _I'm coming._

* * *

**Reviews are great! :)**


	2. Found

When Addison's BlackBerry went off at three a.m., she knew right away that they had been found. Of course, there could have been numerous other reasons why someone would be calling her at three a.m.: Carolyn, for example, could be calling to check for news, and have simply forgotten about the time difference. Or it could be that there was some crisis in L.A. It didn't necessarily mean that the crash victims had been found, but Addison knew that was the case. Dead or alive, they had been found.

Despite the fact that she had left her phone on the nightstand beside her bed, she sounded as if she had just sprinted across the suite to pick it up when she answered. "Addison Montgomery." Even though she knew it was Seattle Grace calling about the crash victims, she hadn't checked the caller ID. It didn't hurt to be professional.

"Dr Montgomery, it's Owen Hunt calling. Sorry to have woken you, but we just got word from the FAA. They found them."

"Where?" Addison was already climbing out of bed, searching in the dark for clothes.  
"Mount Rainier National Park. They're airlifting them here. They should be arriving in a half hour or so." Addison could hear the relief in Owen's voice, but at the same time, there she could hear the fear. They weren't out of the woods yet.

"What's their status?" _Please tell me they're alive_.

"Four are critical, two sustained minor injuries, and one of them is dead."

_One is dead. Oh God, don't let it be Derek or Mark. _"We don't know who?" Addison whispered, afraid of the answer.

"No." Owen sighed. "We'll know when they arrive."

"Okay. I'm on my way."

"You don't have to come in right now," Owen began, but Addison didn't let him finish.

"Two of my closest friends were on that plane, Dr Hunt. I'm not going to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs. You're going to need extra hands anyways."

"Fine." Owen actually sounded relieved to hear she was coming. "We'll see you in a few I suppose. Again, sorry for waking you."

"Don't be. I'm glad you did." It wasn't like Addison had been sleeping anyways. She hadn't since hearing about the crash.

"I'll let you know if we hear anything else." She could tell from his tone of voice that Owen's mind was already elsewhere, moving on to the next task.

"Thank you. I'll be over in a few minutes."

They hung up without saying good-bye. Addison dressed quickly, heart in her mouth. For the first time in her life, Addison Forbes Montgomery paid no attention to what it was she was wearing. Fashion was the last thing on her mind right now. All she could hear was Owen's voice playing like an endless loop in her head: _One of them is dead. One of them is dead. _

It wasn't until she was riding the elevator down to the Archfield's lobby that Addison remembered Carolyn Shepherd in New York, anxiously awaiting news regarding her sons and daughter-in-law. Addison considered waiting until she knew who had died, only to realize that once everyone arrived, it would be complete and utter chaos. Calling Carolyn Shepherd would become her last priority. Besides, even if Derek or Mark or Meredith were the one who was dead—_but that wasn't going to happen. They're going to be fine._—there would still be two of them alive. There would still be people in need of mothering, and there was no one better suited for that role than Carolyn.

It was eight in the morning in New York. Carolyn would definitely be up. She probably hadn't slept since she'd found out about the crash either. Regardless, Addison had to call now. God knew when she'd have time to again.

"Hello?" The fear was painfully obvious in Carolyn's voice. She was expecting to hear that someone had died, and praying that she wouldn't.

"Carolyn? It's Addison?"

"Addie. Have you heard anything?"

"They've been found Carolyn," Addison said as calmly as she could. "They're being airlifted back to Seattle Grace as we speak."

"Oh thank God," Carolyn whispered. "I'll be on the next flight to Seattle. Do you..." she trailed off not wanting to ask outright if any of them were dead, for fear that it would be one of her boys.

"There are seven of them that have been rescued. Four are critical, two have minor injuries, and one—" Addison had to pause and take a breath; she couldn't bear to say it either. "One of them is dead."

"But you don't know who."

Addison sighed. "Believe me, I wish I did."

"Well, it might not be any of them. There were other surgeons on the plane. Not that I would wish any of them to be dead, of course." Carolyn, as always, was determined to stay optimistic.

"Yes. You're right." Addison needed to stay positive and not jump to conclusions until they had more information. "Let me know what time you arrive, okay? I'll come meet you at the airport."

"How? You don't have a car, Addie."

Damn. Addison hadn't thought about that. "I'll find a way. Just give me a call, okay?"

"All right. And you'll let me know if you—"

"Of course. You'll know as soon as I do."

"Thank you, Addison," Carolyn said softly.

"Don't mention it. Have a safe flight."

The phone conversation ended as the elevator doors opened. The lone receptionist behind the front desk—half-asleep at this time of night—gave Addison a curious look, but said nothing as she crossed the foyer and stepped out into the damp Seattle morning. It was still dark, and the rain that had been peppering the city—as usual—all day had let up, but Addison couldn't have cared less if it was poring. All she could think about was Derek and Mark. _Oh God. Mark._ Last she'd seen him, he'd been about to become a father, and he'd been all broken-hearted about the latest drama between him and Lexie Grey. Richard's voice echoed in her head again: _Meredith, Derek, Mark, Cristina, Arizona Robbins, and Lexie Grey. Lexie Grey. Oh my God. Lexie was on the plane too. _

If she was dead, Mark wasn't going to forgive himself. Addison hadn't thought that thing between him and Lexie was serious at first, but when she'd asked him to stay with her in L.A. after he and Lexie had broken up the first time, he'd said that he couldn't do it. She knew it wasn't because he didn't love her; he did, but just not nearly as much as he loved Lexie. If he survived this and she didn't, Addison would have one big mess on her hands. And she'd handle it. Hell, she'd move back to Seattle if she had to. Temporarily, of course; she loved L.A. too much to leave it permanently. If need be, she'd have some stuff sent up here so that she could stay with Mark for as long as he needed her to. She loved Jake, she really did, and she loved Sam too, but neither of them were Mark. She'd never love anyone quite the way she loved Mark. So if he needed her, she'd be here.

The hospital was dead at this time of the morning, for which Addison was glad because it meant that she could give her undivided attention to the crash victims when they came in. Specifically Mark, but she'd really only need to be there for him if Lexie was dead. If Lexie was still around, well, he wouldn't need Addison.

Not seeing anyone she knew Addison headed straight up to the helipad. She knew that the crash victims were being airlifted here, so she figured it was safe to assume that everyone would be waiting up there.

Sure enough, there was a cluster of doctors waiting on the helipad. She recognized Owen Hunt immediately, as well as Richard and Bailey, but the handful of others were strangers to her. As she got closer, she realized that Alex Karev was there, as well as that really good-looking resident who Mark had been so fond of last time she had been here. _What was his name again?_ And there was some eager-looking read-headed resident that Addison didn't know at all.

"Any news?" Addison asked, announcing her arrival and breaking the tense silence.

All of the doctors turned to face her. Owen shook his head, his expression pained. "They should be here in a few minutes, but other than that, we don't know anything."

Suddenly, the whirring of helicopter blades pierced the night. Everyone turned and stared, as if they had all been frozen suddenly. It wasn't until the helicopter touched down, the doors opened, and the EMS jumped out that they all sprung into action.

"What have you got?" Owen yelled over the whirring of the rotor blades the same as he would any other trauma patient.

"Female, early forties, with a pulmonary embolism and bad femur fractures. She could have other internal bleeding as well," the EMS replied, as they unloaded the gurney. The patient was a blond woman, who Addison realized must be Arizona Robbins, Callie's wife. She had an oxygen mask affixed to her face, and she wasn't looking so good.

Owen nodded. "Get her downstairs and into the OR," he barked to Karev. "And page Teddy. And someone from Ortho. Preferably not Torres."

Addison wondered for a fraction of a second if Arizona Robbins was going to be okay but the worry quickly dissipated as the EMS began wheeling out the next victim. "Male, mid-forties, cardiac tamponade. Doesn't look like he's got much left in him."

Addison froze. There had only been two males on that flight to Boise: Derek and Mark. So one of them was definitely dying, and the other one could be dead.

At first, she couldn't see who it was because there were so many doctors all crowding around at once. Knowing that she wasn't technically on-duty, nor was she experienced enough in trauma or cardio to be of any real use right now, Addison took a step back and let everyone else crowd around and do their jobs. As much as she wanted to shove everyone aside and find out which of her best friends was on his deathbed, she knew that the best thing for her to do right now was to get out of the way. So it wasn't until they started to wheel him towards the elevators that she saw his face. And froze.

The man on the gurney was Mark.

* * *

Mark could hear voices. At first, he couldn't identify what they were saying or who was talking; it was all just noise. He wondered if heaven supposed to be this loud. And where was Lexie? Her voice should be the first thing he'd hear, unless she's not really dead. Fear gripped him: what if Lexie was still alive? No. That was impossible. He'd seen her die right in front of him. He'd looked for a pulse and found none. She was gone.

"We need to take him to the OR right away. He doesn't have much time left." A voice pierced through the fog: one that snapped Mark's attention into focus. Addison. What was Addison doing here? She wasn't dead, was she?

Mark wanted to open his eyes and ask Addison exactly what the hell she was doing here, but he couldn't. He felt a stab of anger. Addison wasn't supposed to be dead. She was supposed to live a long, happy life in L.A. and have lots of gorgeous babies and an equally gorgeous husband. After everything that she had been through, she deserved the best. And dying was not the best thing for her.

And where was Lexie? She was the first person, the only person that he wanted to see, and she wasn't hovering around his bedside, waiting to welcome him to the afterlife.

Did this mean that he wasn't dead? He could have sworn that he was dying in the middle of the forest. Sure, he hadn't seen the white light or whatever, but Mark didn't believe in all that 'going towards the light' shit. When you died, you died. It wasn't something graceful or beautiful, it wasn't some big party. It was death. It was the end. It wasn't supposed to be all pretty and happy.

The voices and the noise were starting to fade away again. This was it. The end was coming. Death was really coming for him this time, and, when he opened his eyes next, it would be Lexie's smiling face that would be there to greet him. They could try as hard as they wanted to save him, but he was too far gone.

The last thing he heard before everything slipped away again was Addison's voice. "Don't you dare give up on me Mark Sloan. Don't you dare."


	3. If You Die, I Die

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They really motivate me, so keep them coming! **

**Again, there won't be as much Mark in this chapter, because he's in surgery for most of it, but next chapter will probably be mostly Mark. This also means that I've had to completely scrap my plan for this to be a three-shot, because here's the third chapter, and nothing's really happened yet. So I don't know how long it will end up being...I guess we'll just have to wait and see!**

**Anyways, I won't keep you. Enjoy!**

* * *

Had it not been for the arrival of Derek on a gurney, Addison would never have let Mark go into the OR without her; she didn't trust him to come out alive. But as she saw Hunt come careening down the hall, guiding a gurney bearing her other best friend, pale-faced, with his left arm covered in blood, she froze, and Mark was wheeled into the OR without her. She'd warned him not to give up on her, but she wasn't sure how seriously he was going to take her, especially if Lexie was...

"What happened?" Addison whispered, hurrying over to greet the gurney.

"His arm's been ripped open, and he's got several broken fingers. I don't know the whole story, but from what I was able to gather from the paramedics, his arm went through the wall of the plane, and he managed to get it out by smashing his hand with a rock," Owen replied.

Addison sighed. This wasn't a good sign. With an injury like this, Derek could lose his career. "Is his hand going to..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

Owen shook his head. "I don't know. I've paged Torres, but she's not answering."

"I'll call her," Addison said quickly, pulling her BlackBerry out of her coat pocket. "She'll be here Owen. She must be sleeping or something."

"Addison?" Derek mumbled, frowning at her. "What are you doing here?"

Despite the fact that he was barely conscious and possibly going to lose his career, Addison couldn't help but smile at the sight of her old friend. "Richard called me to tell me about the accident. I wasn't just going to stay in L.A. when you could all be dead. Besides, someone had to call your mother."

"Can you—Meredith—and Zola—can you—"

Addison nodded. "Of course. I'll tell her that you're okay. I'll keep an eye on them."

"Thank you," he whispered.

They were beginning to wheel him away. Addison grabbed his good hand quickly and squeezed it. "I'm going to go find Callie, and she's going to fix your hand, okay, Derek? Everything's going to be okay."

"OR 3 is ready and waiting," Owen said brusquely. "We have to go."

Addison nodded. "I'll go call Callie."

She'd barely made it to three steps down the hall towards the on-call room where she could make her phone call in peace before a voice called out: "Addison!"

Callie was hurtling down the hallway, Sofia in tow. Her face was white; no doubt she'd heard the news. It was no wonder she was so distraught; both her wife and her best friend had been on that plane, and both were now on he brink of death in an OR.

Addison could feel the relief dousing her. Callie was here. She was going to save Derek. It was all going to be okay. "Callie—thank God. Dr Hunt's been trying to reach you. Derek—"

"Where's Arizona?" Callie had no interest in anything other than the health of her wife.

"She just came in," Addison replied. "Bad femur fracture and a pulmonary embolism. She's in OR 2."

Callie nodded, looking slightly frantic. "And Mark?"

"Cardiac tamponade. Apparently, one of the doctors performed an emergency pericardiocentesis in the field. He's in OR 3. It's not looking good." Addison could feel the mind-numbing panic at the thought of Mark dying beginning to rise up again and tried her best to squash it.

Callie pushed some hair out of her face frantically and adjusted her grip on Sofia. "Listen, can you watch Sofia for me? I need to go be with Arizona."

Addison wanted to say yes. She knew how hard this was—God knew she wanted to be in there with Mark—but this was not a good time for Callie to be there. Derek needed her help. "She's got people looking after her, Callie. Dr Hunt needs you in OR 4 right now. You can—"

"She's my wife!" Callie burst out. "My wife, Addison. You have no idea what it's like to think, even for one second, that you're going to lose the love of your life. She has a bad femur fracture, which means she may never walk again. She needs the best care possible. I am the best orthopedic surgeon we have here. I have to go and take care of my wife."

Addison took a deep breath to keep herself from yelling that she knew exactly what Callie was going through, that the love of her life was currently dying in OR 3. "Callie, I know this is hard. I know you are an Ortho god, and so you think that you should be in there operating on Arizona because she deserves the best care. But there are other people who need your care too. Derek—" She had to stop and take a breath as the reality of Derek's injury hit her. "Derek's hand is broken. Hunt's taken him to OR 4 to try and repair the damage to his arm, but he needs an Ortho god to fix his hand."

"But Arizona—"

"Is going to be fine. Hunt wouldn't have paged another doctor to operate on Arizona unless he knew that they would be able to give her the standard of care she deserves," Addison said quietly. "They're going to fix Arizona. But Derek...he'll lose his career, Callie. If you don't fix his hand, he'll never be able to operate again."

Reluctantly, Callie nodded. "Fine."

"Here. I'll take Sofia. You go, okay? Do your thing. Be an god." The relief that Callie was going to save Derek's hand made Addison momentarily forget that Mark was dying on the table in OR 3.

Callie nodded, handing the toddler over. "She's really good friends with Zola. I think April was looking after her while Meredith and Derek were away, but she might be here now. You should go try and find her."

"Oh, okay. I will. Now go."

As Callie marched off towards the OR, Addison realized that this was the first time she'd ever actually held Sofia. She remembered delivering her via emergency C-Section a little over a year ago, but she'd never had a chance to really hold the tiny baby. She turned her full attention to the child now; realizing that this small, beautiful being she held in her arms was Mark's child too. Though Sofia looked much more like Callie than she did Mark—with her dark, hair, dark eyes, and slightly olive-tinted skin tone—Addison could see little bits of Mark in her as well, such as the infamous Sloan nose.

Sofia regarded her curiously. She didn't seem to be shy around strangers; in fact she seemed rather interested in the strange woman holding onto her. Staring into those endless brown eyes, Addison felt profoundly...healed. It was as if all of the panic and agony she was suffering thinking about Derek and Mark just vanished when she looked into Sofia's eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that she saw no pain or worry in those eyes, just burning curiosity, or perhaps it was because of the general innocence that surrounded her; she had no idea that her mother was in surgery with potentially life-threatening injuries, or that her father was dying in another operating room, or that her mother was trying to save her uncle's hand.

Addison sighed, shifting her grip on the toddler. _You better not die, Mark Sloan,_ she thought to herself. _Sofia needs you. We all need you. _

Remembering her promise to Derek and not wanting to linger in the OR hall any longer, Addison headed off towards the ER. She had no idea where Meredith was, but the ER was as good a place to start as any. As she walked, Sofia grabbed a fistful of her hair and began examining it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world—which it might have been, Addison wasn't sure if Sofia had even met a redhead before. After a few moments of close examination, the toddler let it drop, her interest moving instead to Addison's face. The way Sofia reached out and touched Addison's cheek gently, as if able to sense her distress, brought that familiar lump to the back of Addison's throat. She smiled quickly, trying to both reassure Sofia that she was fine and keep herself from crying.

"Hey," she said softly, holding the toddler a little closer. "You probably don't remember me because you were only a baby when I last saw you."

Sofia cocked her head to one side, as if considering the information Addison had just presented to her. "Mama?" she finally said.

Addison laughed. "No, sweetie. I'm not your mom. Your mom's not feeling well right now, and some special doctors are fixing her up so she doesn't hurt anymore. And your mama's working her special doctor magic to help fix Zola's daddy."

"Zoa?" Sofia's eyes lit up at the mention of her friend.

Addison nodded. "Yeah. Zola's daddy got hurt, and your mama is fixing him up, and while she does that, you and I are going to find Zola. How does that sound?"

Sofia smiled, showing two rows of tiny, white teeth. She had Mark's smile. "Yeah."

"Addison?"

Addison whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. She didn't see anyone she knew, but she was surprised to find that they were almost at the ER. She'd been so focused on Sofia that she hadn't been paying any attention to where she was going.

"Addison?" The voice sounded again, and this time, she could locate the speaker. Meredith was coming towards them, Zola perched on her hip, face clouded with worry. She looked awful: her face was pale and covered in dirt; there were dark shadows under her eyes and bruises on her face and arms, and she had some kind of leg wound, which was made apparent by her limp. To put it simply, she looked like she'd been to hell and back, which was probably not a bad estimate. "What are you doing here?"

Addison sighed. "Richard phoned me as soon as you heard. Somebody needed to call Derek' mother—Shit!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, having just remembered the two easily impressionable toddlers who were with them. "I need to call Carolyn. I promised I'd let her know when I had news. She's on her way out here right now."

Meredith ran an agitated hand through her hair, not seeming to have heard anything Addison just said. "Have you seen Derek? Is he okay?"

Addison nodded. "He's in surgery right now. Callie is going to fix his hand, Meredith. He's going to be fine."

Meredith looked slightly relieved, but not all of the tension left her face. Addison suddenly remembered that this wasn't the first time she'd sat outside the operating room, praying that her husband would make it out alive: she'd been in this same position two years ago, after the shooting.

"Zoa!" Sofia's sudden cry made both women forget about all of the things going wrong with their lives right now. Having spotted her best friend, Sofia reached out towards her, a sunny smile lighting up her whole face.

Zola grinned. "Sofia!" She squirmed in Meredith's arms, wanting to go and play with her friend.

Meredith smiled weakly at the sight of the two girls. "I suppose we should just let them play. Do you think they'll..." she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but Addison knew full well what she meant.

"We'll go to the waiting room. I'm sure they'll page us when they're done."

Meredith nodded. "Right. Of course."

* * *

It didn't take them long to get the girls happily settled on the waiting room floor with a stack of colourful blocks that Meredith had in Zola's diaper bag. With both of them playing with each other, Meredith and Addison could both sit down and take a much needed moment to rest.

"How's Mark?" Meredith asked, as if she'd suddenly remembered about him.

"He's in surgery," Addison said quietly. "Dr Altman's doing her best, but it's not looking good."

Meredith touched Addison's knee reassuringly. Addison blinked, surprised: she and Meredith had never really been close. "He's going to be okay," Meredith said. "Teddy's the best there is."

"How's L-Lexie?" Addison choked on the name, feeling her chest constrict slightly as she thought about how much Mark loved the little brunette.

Meredith closed her eyes, and Addison's heart plummeted as she saw the tears shining on the other woman's cheeks. "No," she whispered.

Meredith nodded. "She was crushed under the wing of the plane. We tried everything, but there was nothing we could do."

"Oh God." Addison thought she was going to pass out, or be sick. There was no way Mark was going to fight now. Unless he didn't know... "Does Mark—"

Meredith's face told Addison everything she needed to know. "He was with her when she died. He was with her, and I wasn't." Her voice was raw with guilt, and the tears were beginning to fall faster down her cheeks.

Addison couldn't sit here and watch Meredith beat herself up over Lexie's death any longer. She didn't want to think about Lexie being dead. She'd never really known Lexie at all, but a part of her had disliked her, simply because she was the woman that had Mark Sloan head over heels in love with her. Now, however, she hated Lexie because she had died. Mark wasn't going to try and live now. In his mind, he had no reason to hold on. She was going to lose him. She'd already lost Derek, and now she was going to lose him too. "Excuse me," she muttered, jumping up and hurrying out of the hospital before Meredith could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

The cool, damp Seattle air made her feel a little bit better. Not much—she was still a sobbing, gasping mess—but it helped a little bit. She allowed herself a minute to cry, counting to 60 as she bent over double outside, gasping for air, before straightening up and trying her best to compose herself. Her heart still felt like it had been torn to pieces, and she wondered dimly if this was what it felt like for Derek when he got shot. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she pulled her phone out of its case and punched in Carolyn's number.

It went straight to voice mail, which was no surprise since Carolyn was probably in the air right now, but Addison still felt slightly disappointed; she'd been longing to hear Carolyn's reassuring voice. She needed that optimism right now because she was having a hard time believing that Mark was going to survive this.

"It's Addison," she said as soon as she heard the tone. She tried to keep herself calm, but her words all started tumbling out in a rush. "They found everybody. Derek is okay, he has a huge laceration to his arm and a broken hand, but they think they can fix it all. Mark is—" she had to stop here because she couldn't breathe at the mention of Mark's name, "Mark is in surgery too. He's got cardiac tamponade and it—It doesn't look good for him, Carolyn. And Lexie—Lexie Grey, that little girl that he was so hung up on?—she's dead, so Mark's got no reason to hang on and I—Call me when you land, okay?"

Addison hung up, fingers shaking. Carolyn was probably the only person she could tell the truth to, but she couldn't do it over the phone. She wasn't even sure if she could do it in person. She'd been trying to bury her feelings for so long that she wasn't even sure if she could describe them anymore. She didn't want to say that she was in love with him, because she wasn't sure if that was even what it was. All she knew was that she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of him being dead, and her heart felt like it had been attacked with a machete.

Whatever the feeling was though, she knew this much: she couldn't live without him.


	4. Here Without You

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I last updated, but this chapter's taken me a while to write. It's all from Mark's perspective, and, while there is some happy Slexie, there were a lot of painful moments too. **

**School has also been pretty busy, but we're officially done tomorrow, so I'll have a lot more time on my hands to update a lot faster!**

**I only got one review on the last chapter. I'm having fun writing the story, but if you guys aren't enjoying it, let me know and I'll stop. If you are enjoying it, then please give me feedback! It helps me write better and definitely makes me update faster ;)**

* * *

There was something beeping. It was steady, like a heartbeat, and extremely annoying. Mark wondered dimly if he could turn it off, but his body didn't seem to be responding to any of his mental cues.

As he noticed the beeping, he became aware of other things too. There were other noises, more beeping and whirring. He was aware of pain; he couldn't pinpoint a location, but he was in pain. It was a numb pain, not acute or agonizing; he barely even felt it, but he knew it was there somewhere, waiting in the wings for its cue to immerge. There were voices too, fuzzy voices that came from very far away.

"Do you think he's going to wake up?"

"Honestly, Dr Montgomery, I don't know. I've done everything I can. At this point, it's up to him."

The voices were familiar, but Mark couldn't identify any of them.

"But if it's up to him, he won't—Lexie..."

This Lexie thing was obviously concerning; the voice sounded very worried. Mark had no idea who or what this Lexie thing was, but the warm, safe feeling that filled him told him that it was a good thing.

The noises began to fade away, and the blackness—the calm, black blanket that had become Mark's best friend—began to descend again. Before he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard a sweet voice whispering in his ear, "Sleep well, Mark. I'll be right here when you wake up."

* * *

Mark felt like he was swimming. His mind was foggy, like soup, and nothing seemed to make any sense to him. His head was full of thoughts and images and memories—only he wasn't sure if they were memories or dreams. He couldn't discern what was real from what was in his head anymore. He wasn't sure if anything was real. He didn't even know if he was awake anymore.

He'd never been much of a swimmer as a kid; Derek was the water baby, not him. He'd done a couple of summers worth of swimming lessons at the insistence of Mrs Shepherd, who refused to let either of them go to the beach until they knew how to swim, but it had never been something he was particularly interested in, nor good at. While Derek's arms sliced through the water like knives in his front crawl, Mark's flailed like limp noodles. He'd barely passed the endurance swim. The lessons had been enough so that he could go to the beach and not drown, but what he did in the water could never really be called swimming.

There was one time, when he was about seven, where he had been camping with the Shepherds over the summer holidays. It was his first-ever camping trip, and one of his last—Mark wasn't one for the outdoors. They'd all gone for a hike by the lake, and Mark had tripped over a root and plunged headfirst into the water. This was before all the years of swimming lessons—and possibly why Mrs Shepherd had insisted—and Mark had been fully clothed. He remembered trying to struggle towards the surface, but he couldn't move because his clothes were too heavy. It had felt like swimming through molasses, not unlike what he was feeling now. His brain was all fogged up; waking up seemed like a nice concept, but his eyes just didn't seem to want to obey.

There was something in his throat. He didn't know what it was, but it was incredibly painful and it made it hard to breathe and swallow. The pain became more acute, and with it came nausea as his gag reflex began to kick in. whatever was in his throat needed to come out.

After a moment, he felt cool hands on his face. A voice pierced through the fog: "Shh. You're okay, Mark. You were intubated, but they're taking the tube out now so you can breathe. Everything is going to be okay."

He recognized the voice vaguely, but no name came to mind. He thought of hair: deep rich auburn, soft and sleek between his fingers, but nothing else. Did the speaker even have red hair? He wished he could open his eyes and see.

Mark could feel the thing moving. It burned his throat, and the nausea became overpowering. Eventually, the pain receded, and the burning became less pertinent. He could feel his head sinking further into the pillows as if they were coming up to envelop his face. He tried to tell his eyes to open, to really be awake, but it was too much effort, too much to ask of his taxed body. So he gave up trying to fight and drifted off again.

* * *

_Mark opened his eyes. He felt lethargic even though he'd been sleeping for a while now, and his whole body was bathed in warmth. The sun was still high in the sky. _A rarity for Seattle,_ he mused to himself, rolling over, ignoring the protest from his stiff muscles. He could feel the beach towel shifting underneath him, and the planks of the dock underneath that. The sun glinted off the lake; the water seemed cool and inviting to his hot, sun-soaked skin. He felt like he had been baking in an oven for hours. Hopefully, he wasn't burnt; he could only imagine the embarrassment of showing up at work looking like a lobster._

_ Lexie was sprawled on the towel beside him, sunglasses obscuring those soft, brown eyes, nose buried in a book. He couldn't make out the title, but it was one of those Nora Roberts mysteries that she loved so much. She said it was the suspense and the romance that got her every time, but Mark thought the plotlines were all the same._

_ She turned, perhaps sensing his eyes on her, and grinned. "Hey, sleepyhead."_

_ Mark frowned, unable to comprehend why she was here. Wasn't she dead? Hadn't there been some kind of accident, something in the woods? "Aren't you dead?"_

_ Lexie sighed softly, setting aside her book and rubbing his arm lightly. "Did you have the nightmare again?"_

_ "Nightmare?"_

_ Lexie nodded. "You've had it a couple of times now. There's a plane crash in the woods, and I die. Derek thinks it's just wedding jitters." She looked away, knotting her fingers together. "I hope it's because you're terrified of losing me, and not because you're terrified of marrying me." Her face flushed slightly, and she still refused to look at him. "It's okay to be afraid of a lifelong commitment. I know that's never really been your thing."_

_ As she spoke, Mark's confusion ebbed away. Of course. The nightmares. He remembered now. He reached for Lexie's hands, pressing his lips against her ring finger and feeling the roughness of the precious stones and tasting the metallic tang of the gold setting. "I'm not afraid of marrying you, Lex. I've been waiting for this for a long time."_

_ She smiled shyly, blushing even more. She was so nervous, so eager to please him, so terrified of him moving on to someone else. She didn't seem to know that he didn't care what she did or didn't do, just being with her made him happy, happier than he had been in a long time. She didn't know that there was no need to be afraid of him leaving her; she was the one who was always leaving him because she wasn't ready to give him what he wanted. Mark was never going to get tired of her. She was the love of his life and to him nothing else mattered so long as he got to spend the rest of his life with her. "You don't need to be embarrassed," he murmured, rubbing her hands in his. "I'm going to love you forever, just the way you are."_

_ Lexue giggled, nervousness slipping away._

_ "What?" Mark asked, unable to dismiss the niggling feeling that he was being mocked. _

_ Lexie shook her head. "Just you. You're so sappy and romantic all of a sudden. It's...cute"_

_ "Cute?" Mark's eyebrows skyrocketed. "I'm not cute. I'm a titan. I'm a man. A god. There's nothing cute about me." Derek was the one who was all gooey and romantic. Mark was the charming one, the ladies' man, the bad boy who flirted and knew his way around the bedroom. _

_ Lexie rolled her eyes teasingly, leaning back on her towel. "Of course forgive me oh great titan for having so heartily offended you. I promise not to do it again." There was no mistaking the falseness of her apology._

_ Mark frowned, now acutely aware that she was mocking him. She couldn't go around thinking that she could make fun of him and get away with it. "That's it," he said, sweeping her up into his arms. She weighed absolutely nothing, and the way she shrieked and squirmed made something clench deep inside him. _

_ "Mark, stop it!" she squealed, as he carried her, sunglasses and all, towards the end of the dock. "Put me down!"_

_ "Oh no." Mark grinned. "Not until you're good and sorry, Lexie."_

_ "I am sorry! Really, I am!" The sincerity of her apology was lost in her giggles. _

_ "Really? Or are you just sorry because you're about to get wet?"_

_ Lexie's eyes widened. "Mark!" she shrieked, but he just chuckled._

"_Don't worry. I'll be right there to catch you," he soothed, before tossing her into the water like a sack of potatoes. Her shrieks and giggles were soon swallowed by the depth of the lake. Mark took a moment to stand and watch the ripples spread out from where Lexie had hit the water, but he couldn't stay there long; the paralyzing fear of Lexie drowning because of him sent him plunging in after her within seconds. _

_As the cold water immersed him, Mark felt all of his muscles beginning to relax. The panic receded as he saw Lexie swimming towards him, smile on her face, and yet he still felt the urge to crush her to his chest and never let go so that nothing could ever hurt her. He needed her. Without her, he was nothing._

* * *

Mark's first conscious realization was that he couldn't move. He managed to open his eyes with a lot of effort, but beyond that, his body seemed too exhausted to obey his mental commands. He couldn't even support his own head. All he could do was lie there and stare straight ahead.

Someone had raised his bed. Instead of lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he was now inclined in a way that mimicked sitting without making him have to hold himself up. It also meant that he could observe his room and everyone passing in the hallway outside instead of just watching the ceiling tiles.

He tried to remember how he had gotten here, but it was like trying to see through fog; the memories eluded him. He thought there was something about a forest, and—There was something else. Something very important, but he couldn't remember what it was.

There was someone curled up in the chair by his bed. The long, dark hair and the slim frame were familiar to him, and he could feel his chest beginning to ache. He wished she weren't in the chair; he wished that she were here holding him in her arms instead. When Meredith had her liver out she'd been draped over the side of the bed, asleep for most of the night. Maybe she was afraid of upsetting all the wires. After all, a liver transplant and heart surgery were to completely different things. After Derek was shot, everyone had treated him like he was made of glass.

Mark wanted to reach out and tell her that she didn't need to be afraid to touch him, that he wanted her to hold him and stroke his hair more than anything, but his arms felt like they were made if lead. "Lex?" he tried to whisper, but all that came out was a garbled noise.

The woman in the chair jerked awake, instantly alert at the sound of the noise. As she straightened up, brushing her hair out of her eyes, Mark felt the plunging disappointment as he realized that it wasn't Lexie after all but Amy Shepherd. At a glance, they looked similar, but when you looked closer, they were easy to tell apart: Amy's hair was shorter than Lexie's, and much darker, and they had different builds.

"Hey," she said softly, concern creasing her face. Amy looked much more serious than the last time Mark had seen her; there were dark circles under her eyes and all of that playfulness and spunk seemed to have evaporated. "How are you feeling?"

"L-Lex..." Mark tried to spit her name out, but that was the best that he could do. She wasn't here, so she must be in the cafeteria getting food, or maybe she was checking up on a patient?

Amy sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Mark," she began quietly, obviously not knowing how to say whatever it was that she needed to be said. "You were in a plane crash. You had cardiac tamponade, but Dr Altman managed to fix you up. You're in the cardiac ICU at Seattle Grace."

Mark considered all of this. Plane crash? He didn't remember any plane crashing. Hell he didn't remember even being on a...

_Boise_. The name floated into his mind, and it took him a moment to remember what it meant. Boise Memorial Hospital in Idaho. He'd been going there with some of the others to help out with that conjoined twins surgery. They had a private charter plane to fly them there, which must be the plane crash Amy was referring to.

Now that he started to think about it, he could begin to remember things. The cold was one of those things; he distinctly remembered being very cold for a long time. And there were trees, lots of trees, because...they'd gone down in a forest. And Meredith had been so worried because they couldn't find Derek. It was all coming back to him now.

He was so absorbed in the things that he could now remember that he forgot, momentarily, that Amy hadn't answered his question. It hadn't been much of a question, because he didn't seem to be able to talk coherently, but she hadn't told him where Lexie was, and why she wasn't here. _I love you. I'm so in love with you, and you're—you're in me. It's like—you're—it's—it's like you're a disease. Like I am infected by Mark Sloan. _Oh God. She wasn't mad at him for not telling her that he loved her, was she? He'd wanted to tell her so much, but her speech had caught him a little bit off-guard and then Julia had showed up, and he just hadn't known what to say. She had to understand that. She had to know that he had been a little bit thrown.

Where was she? Even if she were mad at him, she'd be here. She loved him, and so she'd be right by his bedside when he woke up because that was what Lexie did. That's what she had done with Meredith, and that's what she'd do for him too. She'd be here. Unless...she'd been on the plane to Boise too. Was that why she wasn't here, because she was in another hospital bed recovering from her own injuries?

"Lex-Lex-ie," he tried again, but the words didn't seem to come out the way he wanted them to. He just wanted her here to hold him and make everything go away.

Amy scooted her chair closer, and sat down, taking Mark's hand in both of hers. "Lexie..." She closed her eyes briefly, and Mark could see the pain all over her face. Oh God. What had happened? "Lexie's dead, Mark."

What? Lexie? DEAD? Mark shook his head feebly. It wasn't happening. There had been some kind of mistake. Lexie couldn't be dead. They were going to get married and have kids and she was going to be an amazing neurosurgeon. They were meant to be.

There were tears glistening in Amy's eyes as she squeezed Mark's hand and nodded. "She got trapped under the wing. There was a lot of internal bleeding. You and Cristina tried to move the wing off her, but it was too heavy. There was nothing you could have done, Mark. I'm so sorry."

No. It wasn't true. This was just a nightmare, a horrific dream, and any moment he was going to wake up and find Lexie and tell her that they had to get married right now because he couldn't spend one more moment without her as his wife. He was going to tell her that Julia didn't mean anything to him—she never had—and that it was Lexie that he had always been in love with, ever since that first day that he saw her when she was just an intern. And he didn't care if she didn't want kids right now, or ever, even though he thought she'd be a great mom, because he just wanted to be with her forever.

Memories began to resurface. The sharp, acrid smell of charred metal mingling with the smells of the woods; the sharp clanging of metal on metal; Lexie's bloodstained face peeping our from under the wing of the plane; her broken voice whispering. _Mark, I'm dying. _But that wasn't real. That was just a nightmare. Lexie had said...

Mark shook his head resolutely, trying to clear it, trying to push everything away. He couldn't figure out what was real and what was the nightmare anymore.

Amy reached up with a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Mark—I know you loved her. I know this is hard for you, but you have to be strong, okay? Lexie would want you to be strong."

Mark wanted to snap that Amy had no idea what Lexie would want him to do, but the words were stuck in his throat. His vocal cords refused to obey him. Everything refused to obey him. All he could feel was pain. His chest burned and ached from the surgery, but that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst was the ache in his heart: it felt like someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out with their bare hands. He couldn't breathe. Lexie was gone. The love of his life was gone forever, and it hurt so much that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything.

Seeing the look on his face, Amy reached over and adjusted something beside Mark's bed out of his line of sight. Instantly, he could feel the pain beginning to recede. As the morphine sang through his veins, his brain began to churn sluggishly again, and, this time, he didn't fight to stay awake. He didn't want to be awake, not if Lexie wasn't going to be there with him.


	5. Keep It Together

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I updated! I'm going to try and churn out more regular updates now that I am officially on summer holidays, but I can't promise that they'll be exactly on schedule. Anyway, to make up for the lack of updates, this chapter is a little longer than the other ones. It took me a while to write because it's a little intense, but for those of you who have been waiting, there is actually interaction between Mark and Addie in this chapter! Also, sorry about any spelling or grammar errors; I didn't check this over very well because I wanted to get it up!**

**I want to say thanks to Broadwayfreak5357 and oc-journey06 for reviewing the last chapter. I really appreciate your feedback!**

* * *

_Addison was alone. All of her friends here in Seattle were in surgery: Callie and Miranda were operating, and Mark and Derek were being operated on. Meredith had taken Sofia and Zola up to one of the on-call rooms to try and get some sleep—not that Addison was complaining; things between them had never exactly been warm. The other doctors were strangers to her, and they were all busy, so spending time getting to know any of them was a waste of time, one that Addison wasn't entirely sure she wanted to pursue when they weren't otherwise occupied. She wasn't needed in Peds either; Karev seemed to be handling the unit quite fine by himself._

_ Not entirely sure what else to do, Addison found a chair at the nurses' station outside the surgical floor and waited. Despite what she had told Meredith about the doctors coming to find them in the waiting room to update them on Mark and Derek's progress, Addison couldn't spend another second sitting in those chairs with their upholstery that was meant to be comfortable but was really slightly itchy, surrounded by people giving with terrified faces, waiting for news of their loved ones. The thought of Mark dying made her sick, and sitting in the waiting room staring at the OR doors like they were holding her life in the balance wasn't going to make that sick feeling any better. At least the nurses' station gave the pretence that she was working. _

_ When her BlackBerry vibrated, she was busy contemplating the list of commonly used phone numbers taped to the phone, though she wasn't really seeing any of them. The buzzing, amplified by the plastic surface of the desk, yanked Addison back to reality, startling her. She took a moment to breathe, hand pressed against her chest as if to calm her racing heart, before picking it up. _

_ "Dr Montgomery." There was still a slim possibility that it would be work calling, so some shard of professionalism was necessary. _

_ "Addison!" The voice on the other end of the line was breathless, and, judging by the slight hint of cheerfulness that never really seemed to go away, belonged to Amelia Shepherd. "I've been trying to get a hold of you forever! I left you a message, but you must have been busy."_

_ "Oh. Yes, I was," Addison mumbled, unaware that she had any missed calls. It was unlike her not to answer her phone when it went off, and even more unlikely for her to not notice it going off. Had she really missed her BlackBerry vibrating? Normally, she'd be appalled that she'd let herself get so far out of control, but, in light of everything that had happened, none of that seemed to matter anymore. _

_ "Well, I just wanted to let you know that Mom called me and told me what happened, and I'm on my way to Seattle. I'll be there in a few hours, I'm just getting on the plane." _

_ "You're coming to Seattle?" Addison couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. Last she'd checked, Amelia was swamped with work. Everyone in L.A. seemed to want her to cut their brains open. She remembered joking about it with Amy not two weeks ago, only now it seemed like their light, teasing banter had been years ago. Addison couldn't imagine joking around about anything right now. _

_ "Of course!" Amy sounded almost offended at the fact that Addison had thought that she wouldn't be on the first plane here from L.A. "They're my brothers, Addie. I'm not just going to sit around and do nothing."_

_ Addison sighed. Amelia was right. It wasn't fair to say that she couldn't be there for her brother at a time like this, it was just...well, Derek and Amelia had never had the greatest of relationships. They had made amends, but their relationship was still very rocky and Addison wasn't so sure that Derek would want Amelia to be here. "You're right. I'm sorry, Amelia. Do you want me to come and get you when your plane comes in?"_

_ "No, you stay there. I'll get a cab." _

_ "Okay," Addison said, relieved. She had offered to pick Amy up because it was polite, but she didn't really want to leave the hospital for fear that Mark wouldn't make it. "I'll see you when you get here, I suppose."_

_ "Yeah. Listen, I've got to go, they're calling my flight. Keep me posted."_

_ "Of course," she replied, but Amelia had already hung up. _

_ Addison sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It seemed like the whole Shepherd clan might quite soon be descending on Seattle. If Carolyn had called Amy to tell her about the crash, it meant that Nancy, Kathleen, and Rachel had probably been called as well. She had no idea if that meant that they were going to come to Seattle, but she figured it was better to be prepared for the worst. She debated going to find Meredith to alert her that the pack was potentially going to descend—Meredith's relationship with the Shepherd clan as a whole was a little strained—then decided against it, as she was probably asleep and didn't need anything else to worry about now. _

_ There was still no word from the OR. Addison kept trying to tell herself that it was because they didn't think that there was anyone waiting outside to be apprised of Mark's condition, but her arrival from L.A. hadn't exactly been kept a secret. _Everyone just thinks that you and Mark are friends, though_, the little voice at the back of Addison's head whispered. _Some of them probably don't even know you have a history._ She kept trying to tell herself that no news was good news, but the tendrils of icy panic mingled with crushing despair rose up from the pit of her stomach anyways._

_ "Addison?"_

_ She looked up, half-hoping that it would be somebody here with an update, and trying to ignore the hint of disappointment that tainted the immense relief when she realized it was Carolyn. Though they hadn't met until Addison was an adult, Carolyn Shepherd was the closest thing Addison had ever had to a real mother, and, despite the divorce, Carolyn still occupied that same mother-like spot in her mind. It was incredibly relieving to have her here: it meant that Addison was no longer alone, that there was someone to listen to all her worries and all the fears that were consuming her, and reassure her that none of them were going to come to fruition. _

_ Addison forced a watery smile. "I thought I told you to call me when your plane landed. I was more than willing to come and get you."_

_ "Without a car?" Carolyn chuckled. "I was perfectly happy to take a cab, Addie. Besides, I thought you might rather be here. How is everyone doing?"_

_ It was then that Addison realized she had completely forgotten to call Carolyn with an update. Guilt washed over her as she realized how Carolyn must have felt during the long flight from New York, worrying about whether or not her boys were the alive. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you," she whispered. "It's just—" _

_ "It's fine, Addie. I understand," Carolyn said soothingly. "You were a little preoccupied."_

_ "Yeah," Addison mumbled, raking a hand through her hair again, a nervous habit that she had never been able to shake. "Derek is fine. He has a deep laceration to his forearm and several broken bones in his hand, but we've got one of the best surgeons on the West Coast working on him, so I'm sure he'll be able to make a full recovery. Meredith is fine too, she had to get some stitches for a laceration on her calf and one on her head and she might have a slight concussion, but she doesn't need surgery. She's taken Zola and Sofia up to an on-call room to get some sleep. And Mark—" She couldn't finish. It was like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs, and she could feel the familiar burn of tears behind her eyes. _

_ "Oh Addie," Carolyn murmured, opening her arms. Addison sank into them, letting the tears that she had been holding back for so long fall. Proof of Carolyn's amazing intuition: she had figured out immediately how much Mark meant to Addison, something that Addie had needed years to figure out for herself. "It's going to be okay."_

_ "They don't know if he's going to make it," Addison blubbered. "He—Lexie died, and now he's probably not going to want to fight, and he could die..."_

_ "Shh." Carolyn rubbed Addison back exactly the way she'd always wished her own mother would when she was upset as a child. "He's going to make it, Addie. He's going to be okay."_

Addison stared listlessly at her sandwich, trying to shove the memories of earlier out of her head. The lettuce was droopy and sad-looking, and the juices from the tomato had seeped into the bread, making it soggy. Not that she was going to eat it anyways. The thought of consuming food made her slightly ill. She would have been more than happy to continue what she had been doing for the last few days—migrating between Mark and Derek's rooms, babysitting Sofia and occasionally Zola, doing the rare Peds consult if Alex got out of his depth, and e-mailing everyone in L.A. to make sure that things were running smoothly and that there was someone to look after her work while she was gone—but Amy was starting to get concerned that Addison wasn't eating, so they had ventured to the cafeteria to get some food.

"It's awful," Amy was saying, stabbing vehemently at her salad. "I mean she was so young, so full of promise...I worked with her a couple of months ago; she had the potential to be an excellent neurosurgeon." Most people were still in the denial stage regarding Lexie's death. Amy, however, had skipped straight to anger. She, like everyone else, seemed to think that it was monumentally unfair that it had to be _Lexie_ who died, but, unlike everyone else, she was having no trouble voicing it.

"And her poor father," Amy continued, blissfully unaware that Addison wasn't really paying any attention to what she had to say. "He's already had to bury his wife, Addie. That should be enough. He shouldn't have to bury his daughter, too."

Addison poked at the sandwich, observing how her finger left a lasting indent in the slightly soggy bread. She didn't want to talk about this now. She didn't want to hear about how unfair it was that Lexie was dead, or how her poor father must be suffering, or how tragic it was that Mark had forgotten about her death. All this talk of Lexie only made her feel more guilty for having wished, even for a second, that Lexie had never existed so that Mark would have stayed in L.A. with her after coming to visit with Sloane. She knew rationally that it wasn't in any way her fault that Lexie was dead, but that didn't really assuage any of her guilt. She had wished that Lexie would die, and now—several years after the fact—Lexie was dead.

"The look on Mark's face when I told him that Lexie was dead—Addie, it was awful. I've never seen him look so devastated ever in my life. He just never struck me as the kind of guy to settle down or fall in love—he never struck any of us that way I don't think—and now that he's finally found someone, she has to die." She was still going at it. Addison would have thought that Amy would have noticed the silence coming from the other end of the table by now and realized that maybe she shouldn't be talking about this still, but it seemed as though she wasn't aware of whether or not Addison was listening. "He looked like he wanted to die, Addie. Like he'd lost all will to live. It was awful."

"I have to go." Addison stood abruptly, stomach lurching. She couldn't stand another minute of this. She loved Amy like a sister, she really did, but she couldn't take another second of hearing how Mark couldn't survive without Lexie. For her own sake, so that the guilt at wishing Lexie dead and the nausea at the thought of Mark dying didn't consume her completely, she had to leave before she was sick all over Amy and her stupid salad, and that disgusting sandwich that she was never going to eat anyways.

Amy looked at her, actually looked at her for the first time since they had sat down and she had begun her tirade about the unfairness of Lexie's death. She was startled by Addison's abrupt departure, and opened her mouth to say something.

"I'd better go check on Mark, make sure he's okay." The words came out all choppy and disjointed; Addison had been trying desperately to spit them out before Amy said anything more. Her stomach flipped when she said his name, and she was gripped by the slightly panicky sensation that accompanied the endless litany of what ifs streaming through her head, namely _what if Mark had died while she was sitting in the cafeteria pretending to be interested in a stupid sandwich she didn't even want and trying not to listen to Amy go on and on. _

"Oh, well, okay." Amy was surprised, but she didn't get to say anything more because Addison had already turned and fled.

She'd been to see Mark several times since he'd come out of the OR. She'd spent the whole first night in his room, dozing by his bedside, terrified that he was going to die if she didn't stay. She'd been there when they took him off the ventilator, and had popped in sporadically since then, always when no one was there, and always when he was asleep. She wasn't sure that she had the courage to face him awake yet; she was sure that she'd be too overcome with emotions to be able to have a normal conversation with him. The Addison Mark knew was cool and composed, and she didn't want to appear otherwise, so until she could get a handle on herself, she was going to have to steer clear of wakeful Mark.

The cardiac ICU was quiet. Surprisingly, there weren't many patients being treated—perhaps not knowing who was staying or going had prompted them to accept fewer cases—and most of the staff was on their lunch break. The nurses' station was empty, which was a good thing; Addison wasn't sure she wanted to talk to anyone right now. She'd just stick her head into Mark's room to make sure that he was still alive, and then she'd head over to check on Derek.

He was sleeping, something that didn't surprise Addison at all; asleep was how he had been spending the majority of his time since they'd brought him back. Dr Altman had assured her that this was completely normal, that heart surgery was extremely taxing and rest was the best thing for Mark right now to ensure that he made a full recovery, but Addison couldn't help but wondering if sleep was his way of avoiding reality. While he was asleep, he could live in a dream world where Lexie was still alive, where this horrible plane crash had never happened, and he probably preferred being there to being in reality, where Lexie was dead and he had just had heart surgery. Not that she blamed him, were she in his shoes, Addison wasn't sure that she wouldn't make the same decision.

Tentatively, consumed by the fear that making to much noise or moving too quickly would disturb Mark from his slumber, Addison approached the doorway. Her subconscious—the one part of her that still possessed her infamous backbone—chided her for constantly lurking in the doorway and urged her to enter the room and sit in the chair by his bed for a little while, but she ignored it, taking her preferred position against the doorframe instead. She could see Mark—and all the various monitors surrounding him—perfectly well from here, and therefore saw no need to venture further into the room. It wasn't like she was going to stay for very long anyways. She was just popping in to make sure that he was still alive, and then she was going to go see Derek.

He seemed to be fine—his vitals were all stable and the peaceful expression on his face indicated that he wasn't feeling any pain—and was obviously deeply asleep, so Addison, feeling like she was intruding on a private moment, turned away. She'd come back when he was awake, she decided. It was time to stop cowering in the shadows and face her fears. Besides, creeping around checking up on him when he was sleeping was not only incredibly selfish, but wasn't going to do anyone any good. Whether he liked it or not, Mark was going to need her, and she couldn't be there for him if she refused to visit when he was awake. He loved Lexie, not her. She knew that, but it was time she accepted it and moved on.

"Addie?"

Her name was torn from his lips in a strangled croak, making her question for a second whether or not she had imagined it. She turned slowly, marvelling, as usual, at Mark's impeccable timing. She'd only just decided it was time she toughen up and face him when he was awake, and he woke up just as she was about to run off to Derek's room, where she could spill all her worries about Mark and receive some comfort. She and Derek had fallen back into that comfortable rhythm they had once had, for which she was glad—she'd always hated the awkward tension between them after the divorce—because it meant she had someone to talk to about Mark who actually understood Mark and the nature of the relationship—if you could even call it that—between the two of them.

His bed had been propped up so that, even though he was lying down, it gave the illusion that he was sitting up. Normally, Addison preferred this setting: not only did it make it easier to see the occupant of the bed, but it also gave the patient the ability to see everything and feel more engaged in what was going on without causing them any discomfort. Today, however, she almost wished that he weren't propped up; the elevation made it much easier to see exactly how close Mark's brush with dead had been. Even nearly three days after the surgery, he still looked like he had just come back from and NDE, or was on the brink of one. It terrified Addison; she was never sure if he was going to stay with them. His face was completely devoid of colour—with the exception of the large, bruise-like circles under his eyes—causing his skin to have taken on a greyish tint that made her stomach churn. His lips were cracked from lack of moisture, and he barely had enough strength to keep his eyes open. To see Mark—the one who was always smiling and flirting and saying completely inappropriate things; the one who, despite the projected bad-boy attitude, was a secret perfectionist and was in control of everything—like this, not only completely helpless, but completely lacking the will to live, broke Addison's heart and made her sick at the same time. Despite all the promises she had made herself about being strong enough for the both of them, she wanted nothing more than to run and hide until this was all over, so that she could pretend it was just a bad dream.

"Hey," she said finally, not quite sure what else to say in this situation. That one word itself came out slightly choked, making her glad she hadn't opted for anything longer.

"You w—" Mark seemed to be having even more difficulty than Addison at forming coherent sentences. His face scrunched up in a mixture of concentration and agony as he tried to force out the words that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Let me get you some water," she said hastily, crossing over to the pitcher of water on the bedside table. She hated seeing that look of pain on his face; hell, she hated the thought of him in any pain. She might not be able to assuage the ache that accompanied the knowledge of Lexie's death, but here was a pain she could soothe, and she'd be damned if she'd let him suffer when there was something she could do about it.

The liquid sloshing against the side of the cup was deafening in the silence. Addison was too focused on the task at hand to say anything—besides, she wasn't sure what exactly she could say that wouldn't make him feel the need to elicit a response—and Mark seemed to have given up completely on the notion of talking for the time being.

"Here." She dragged a chair close to his bedside and held out the cup, straw emerging like a flag from the top, so that he could drink. "Don't drink it too quickly," she added, as his lips latched feebly around the tiny plastic tube. "You don't want to make yourself sick."

This elicited a short bark—_could it be laughter?_—which turned into a spasm of feeble coughs halfway through. Addison withdrew the cup hastily, watching in horror as Mark's chest spasmed—no doubt painfully after the procedure he had just undergone. He didn't seem to have enough strength to cough properly, so she sat there, listening to him chuffing weakly and painfully for a minute or two instead.

"Sorry," she whispered, when the coughing—if it could even be called that—abated. "Sorry." She held out the cup again, like a peace offering. Mark latched onto it gratefully, like a lifeline, and she watched as he took tiny sips.

She didn't even know what she had said, but she would make sure not to say it again in the future. She couldn't swear off humour altogether because Mark seemed to find hilarity in things that nobody else found funny, often because he was creating innuendos where none were intended. It was like walking on eggshells: she had no idea what to say to him that wouldn't cause him any physical sort of pain.

"'S ironic," he mumbled, after having consumed a couple sips of water.

"Ironic," Addison repeated, failing to see the irony in this situation.

"Y'warnin' me—" here he had to pause to catch his breath "about gettin' sick. Tha's the least a' m'problems."

"Oh." Addison couldn't help the corners of her mouth from twitching. It was a little ironic, given everything that had happened. "But you don't want to cause yourself anymore pain, right? And making yourself sick isn't going to help matters at all." She placed the cup on the table, not wanting to hold it anymore when Mark wasn't going to drink from it. Now unsure of what to do with her hands, she folded them in her lap. Taking his hand in hers seemed to personal, and leaving them on the bed was just awkward.

Mark sighed, a faint, pained affair. "Tha' won' matter. Nothin' matters."

Addison's hands twitched in her lap. They wanted to reach out and touch him, to stroke his hair, to offer him some sort of comfort, any comfort at all, but she didn't think that was the best move right now. Lexie's death was still raw, and he probably didn't want anyone else touching him.

"How are you feeling?" The question seemed unnecessary—it was obvious that he was in pain—but Addison needed to say something to fill the all-consuming silence. She also couldn't crush the secret fear that if she let Mark stew in his grief for Lexie, she'd lose him.

"Sore." His voice was weak and croaky again, so she offered him some more water. He took a few small sips before turning his head away.

"Do you need some more morphine?" As a doctor, she knew that too much morphine was a bad thing, but maybe at this point, it was better for him to be completely stoned. At least in a drug-induced haze, he wouldn't be torn about by his grief.

He shook his head. The movement was tiny, nearly imperceptible; the rustling of his head moving against the pillowcase was the only indication he had moved at all. "'M tired," he mumbled, words becoming more slurred, a sure sign that she was losing him again.

Addison sighed, resting her hand against his gently. She could feel the rough scabs of the scratches underneath her fingers, a sign of the hardships he's suffered out in the woods. "You get some rest then. I'll come back to check on you later, okay?"

"Mmm," he mumbled, though he was so far gone that she doubted he had any idea what she had said.

"Sleep, Mark," she murmured, squeezing his hand as his eyes drifted shut. "I'm not going anywhere." She squeezed his hand gently, even though she was sure he couldn't feel it, before leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes, the visit to Derek already forgotten. He wasn't the one who needed her. Mark was, and so she'd stay here for as long as he needed her to, even if he didn't know she was there.

With that thought in mind, Addison drifted off to sleep, Mark's hand still clutched in hers.

* * *

**Don't forget to leave me a review!**


	6. You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

**A/N: I suck at updating on schedule. I really do. I had a legitimate excuse for not updating last Friday like I promised: I had a class last week and didn't get any writing done. And then I had some writer's block and needed to update my other story too, so I got to this way later than I wanted to. It's not the best chapter in my opinion (especially Addison's POV; it just didn't flow the way I wanted it to) but I have a rough outline for the next chapter and it should be a lot of fun, and better than this one. It won't be as dark and sad either, which I realized that a lot of this has been so far. And it will be up by next Friday. I promise.**

**HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I love reading what you think about the story and how it's progressing. Special thanks to Fire Dolphin for letting me know about the existence of Addison's son. I don't watch Private Practice (yet) and so I had no idea that she had a baby. To those of you who read but don't review, that's okay, but I'd love to know what you think, even if it's just "good chapter" or something like that.  
**

**ANYWAY. Enough of me talking. I'll just let you read. Enjoy!**

* * *

Addison was here. Not just here as in here in Seattle or here in the hospital, but _here_ as in here in this room, curled up in a chair by the bed, fast asleep in a position that looked anything but comfortable. He wasn't surprised that she had come; despite all that had happened between the three of them, he and she and Derek had somehow been able to retain a sort of friendship. Mark figured that, after so many years of doing everything together, it wasn't worth the effort to cut each other completely out of the others' lives. There were just too many parts of their lives that intertwined. The thing that surprised him was that she was _here;_ asleep by his bedside when there were surely more comfortable places to be sleeping, like an on-call room, or the hotel room he was positive she had booked at the Archfield. That, he supposed, was the power of friendship, the proof that, blood was thicker than water. They hadn't really spoken to each other in the better part of a year, and yet, she was here forsaking all comfort to be at his bedside, presumably so that he wouldn't wake up alone. The gesture had been much appreciated, though only after he got over the crushing disappointment that the hand holding his wasn't Lexie's.

She was everywhere. He'd been aware of her forever, but everything had become so much more acute since she'd died. He was more aware of her now simply because she wasn't there. He'd never really realized all the things that she did, or the incredible _presence_ that she had until she was gone. Her ghost was everywhere he turned, like a nightmare that he couldn't escape. Missing her had become a physical ache more painful than anything he had ever known, like a vital part of him had been removed and he was still trying to figure out how it was possible for him to function without it.

She had told him that he was in her like a disease, but it was he who had been infected, on he hadn't realized how much until she was gone.

Since he had the time—Addison showed no signs of waking up anytime soon—Mark looked at her, really looked, something he hadn't done since Lexie had walked into his life. He'd seen her the couple of times that she had been here to visit, but never for very long, and he'd never really had time to catch up with her because of work, and life, and Lexie. This was probably the first time since she'd gone to L.A., since she'd broken his heart—though he now knew the real meaning of heart break—that he'd really actually looked at her. She looked a little thinner than he remembered her being, though those famous curves were still very much there, and her skin had that soft, golden, sun-kissed glow of someone who spent plenty of time in the sun. She looked younger than when she had first come to Seattle, probably a bi-product of the tan. Her long, auburn hair fanned out over the back of the chair, hanging suspended like a waterfall. He was glad that she'd let it grow out again; he'd never been a fan of the short cut, even though everybody else was. He'd always been a fan of long hair.

The dark shadows under her eyes didn't go unnoticed, and made Mark wonder if this was the first time that she had actually slept since coming to Seattle. Part of him wished that she were awake, so that he could make some joke about how she was always coming here in the wake of some kind of crisis and that maybe next time she should consider coming when everything was calm, but he didn't want to wake her either, not when she looked so peaceful. Knowing her, this was probably the first bit of piece she'd had in a while.

She made no sound when she approached, but he could sense her coming. The presence was familiar, and Mark could feel the hope welling in his chest—maybe this was just a horrible mistake, a misunderstanding, or some kind of awful test to see whether or not he was actually serious about her—only to have it crushed when he realized it was Meredith who standing in the doorway, and not her sister. Was this going to be what his life was like from now on: full of false of hope followed by crushing disappointment when he realized that the knock on the door, the voice calling him in the hallway, the ringing of the phone wasn't Lexie? He wasn't sure that he had the strength to do it.

"Hey." She was hovering in the doorway, as if unsure whether or not to enter the room. A chuckle rumbled in his throat, as he remembered that was the same position Addison had been in when he'd spied her in the doorway.

Meredith frowned slightly, not sure if she was being laughed at, or if he was laughing at something else. "What's so funny?"

Mark shook his head. "The floor's not made of glass, you know. You can come in the room."

There was a slightly awkward pause, before Meredith crossed the threshold slowly. "Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted visitors or anything," she replied, glancing pointed at Addison.

"You and her both. Honestly. Last time I checked, heart surgery doesn't affect your stunningly good looks."

A ghost of a smile flashed across Meredith's face. "Well, it certainly hasn't done anything to your humour. How are you feeling?"

The carefully constructed, carefree façade vanished in an instant. "Awful." Whether or not she was talking about his pain after the surgery or his pain after Lexie's death, the answer was the same.

Meredith sighed, perching awkwardly on the bed because Addison was occupying the only chair in the room. She reached towards him, as if to grab his free hand, but seemed to changed her mind at the last minute, and pinched the sheet between her index finger and thumb instead. She wouldn't look at him; this wasn't easy on her either.

Neither of them said anything, blanketing them in uncomfortable silence. What was there to say? Mark didn't really want to talk about Lexie; his grief was something that he dealt with quietly, in his mind, and not something he shared with anyone. None of them, not even Meredith, understood what it was like, and he didn't need any of them holding his hand and pretending that they understood what it was like. Meredith wasn't the type to pretend that she knew what people were feeling; if she told you she understood what it was like, it was because she understood what it was like. She'd racked up the mother load of painful experiences in her life, but he didn't think any of them came close to this.

He could feel the pain welling up from somewhere deep inside of him, the agonizing ache that filled the hole in his chest where his heart used to be and spread so that it consumed him. Being here with Meredith made everything worse because she was too close. When Mark though of Meredith, Derek, Zola, and Lexie immediately jumped to mind. The four of them were all entwined in his mind, when he thought of one, the other three popped up. Lexie's words rang in his ears, words that he didn't ever want to hear again. _Please tell Meredith that I love her and that she is a good sister._

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't sit here with Meredith and not talk about what had happened, and be constantly haunted by the memory of her dead sister and the wish that it had been Meredith crushed under that plane and not Lexie. He wouldn't wish this agony on anyone, and certainly not Derek, who, for all intensive purposes, was his brother, but that didn't stop him from selfishly wishing that the love of his life had been saved and not Derek's. Derek and Meredith had had more than enough moments together. Mark and Lexie hadn't had nearly enough.

"I should, uh, get going. I told Derek I would stop in before I left." Meredith stood up, still not meeting Mark's gaze. "I'm glad you're doing okay."

Mark nodded numbly. He wasn't really paying attention to what Meredith was saying. He just wanted her to leave so that he could go back to the morphine-induced haze where everything was fine.

She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him, her face full of sadness, as if to remind him that he wasn't the only one who was suffering. "She would have wanted you to live," she said quietly, before turning and walking away.

Mark sighed and let his head sink deeper into the pillows. Addison's hand was still in his, and for that, he was glad, because, with his eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that it was Lexie's.

_He was tired. Pulling a long shift—or longer than usual for him—had completely zapped all of his energy. All he wanted to do was go home, have a long, hot shower, and go to bed, though he knew the latter wasn't going to happen right away. Lexie wouldn't let him go to bed without eating something, and so there'd be take-out—that he'd order, if she hadn't already—and a beer to eat while watching the end of the Celtics game. This was one of the few game nights where Mark wasn't actually in the mood to watch the game, but they were playing the Knicks at Madison Square Garden, and he knew that this particular game was going to be rehashed at work tomorrow, especially since Derek was a die-hard Knicks fan. The rivalry between the two of them had been in place since they were kids; Mark was born a Celtics fan—one of the few things he inherited from his father—while Derek, like any good Manhattan boy, worshipped the Knicks. It had gotten to the point where Meredith had banned them from watching Knicks/Celtics games at their house because there were too many expletives and violence—all of it playful—for Zola. Mark's apartment had become their go-to place for game night, which meant that Lexie spent the night at Meredith's—like her sister, she wasn't a fan of Mark and Derek's method of watching the game. If the Knicks won tonight, he'd never hear the end of it tomorrow, and if the Celtics won, well, Mark wasn't going to miss out on a chance to rub it in Derek's face, no matter how tired he was. _

_ He could hear the sound of the TV going as he jiggered with the key in the lock; the familiar sound of the NBC sports broadcasters sounding from the other side as if they were sitting in his living room and not coming from his TV. That was unusual, though not totally surprising; Derek may very well have come over here to watch the game, though had that been the plan, he would have mentioned it at work. Derek wasn't one for showing up unannounced at people's houses. _

_The battle between him and the lock was a never-ending one, but when he finally did get the door open, he was surprised to see Lexie sitting on the couch, bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees, watching the game. She wasn't a huge sports fan—baseball was the only one she really followed, having once been a softball player herself—and he was sure there were many more interesting things for her to be watching on TV. _

_She looked up at the sound of the door closing, that familiar, beautiful smile filling her face. "It's about time you came home. The game's almost over." _

_Mark couldn't help but stare. She was just so beautiful, so perfect, and part of him still couldn't believe that she was his forever. "Sorry I'm late; there were some complications with the surgery. Nothing I couldn't handle, of course," he added, grinning. _

_Lexie snorted. "Right. I forgot: nothing slips past the god of Plastics. Meanwhile, I've been sitting here watching the Celtics get absolutely slaughtered by the Knicks."_

_Mark groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Seriously?"_

_She nodded grimly. "Derek is going to have a field day tomorrow."_

"_No kidding. Why are you watching it, though? I didn't think that basketball was your thing." He sank down on the couch beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. _

_She shifted the bowl of popcorn to prevent it from spilling everywhere, and shrugged. "I figured you were going to be late getting home, and I knew that Derek was going to want to rehash the game tomorrow, so I figured the least I could do was give you the basic rundown so that you wouldn't be completely out of your depth. I even took notes!" She grinned, gesturing to the impressive array of Post-Its stuck to the arm of the sofa, all filled with notes about the game in Lexie's handwriting. "Most of them are just me copying verbatim what the commentators were saying, but still."_

_Mark chuckled. She never ceased to amaze him. Basketball was not something she followed or understood, and yet here she was, taking notes so that he would know what to talk about with Derek tomorrow. "You know I love you, right?" he asked, pressing his lips gently against the top of her head. _

"_Yeah," she said softly, snuggling closer to him. "I do."_

* * *

At first, Addison had no idea where she was. When she realized that it was a hospital room—the beeping and whirring of machines and the blank, sterile atmosphere were dead giveaways—her first thought was of Amelia and her disastrous pregnancy. It wasn't until she was Mark asleep in the bed, hand clasped in hers, that she remembered everything.

Slowly, as so not to disturb Mark—who needed all the sleep he could get right now—she sat up, suppressing a groan as her stiff muscles tried to un-kink themselves. She'd been so tired that she hadn't worried about getting comfortable in the chair before drifting off, and she was definitely paying for it now.

Her BlackBerry vibrated suddenly in its case at her hip, shattering the silence. Cursing, Addison fumbled it out as she hurried out of the room, praying that Mark wasn't going to be woken.

"Hello?" She hated how breathless and gasp-y her voice was; it made her sound desperate and uncollected, two things that Addison Forbes Montgomery loathed to be.

"Addie?" Sam's voice was full of concern. "Are you okay?"

_Am I okay?_ She wasn't sure she had an acceptable answer to that question. The honest answer was no, she wasn't okay, but that wasn't exactly something she could tell Sam. Her life was falling to pieces, but she couldn't tell him that because it would mean divulging some dark truths about herself that she'd kept hidden away for a very long time, one of them being that she had always been—and always would be—in love with Mark. Sam had just asked her to marry him, had finally told her the words she had been waiting for so long to hear him say: that he wanted her and Henry, that he wanted them to be a family, and telling him that she was here in Seattle falling to pieces at the bedside of Mark Sloan, who would never love her the way she loved him, was definitely not the best course of action. She hadn't given him an answer yet regarding the proposal—she'd told him it was because she needed some more time to get used to being Henry's mom before she tried to become anything else, but in reality it was because she wasn't really sure whether she wanted him or Jake—but she didn't want to scare him away. She needed to know that there was someone for her to go back to in L.A., someone who could love her and take care of her the way Mark never would. "I'm tired." It was true; this whole thing had worn her out completely in a way that no amount of sleep could cure.

"You should get some sleep then," Sam said gently. "You don't have to spend all of your time at the hospital."

"How did you know I was at the hospital?"

Sam chuckled. "Amelia called Charlotte to give her an update on how things were going and advised her to get me to talk to you. She said that otherwise she was afraid you'd never leave the hospital."

Addison sighed, pushing stray, straggly pieces of hair out of her face. "I'm fine, Sam. Really," she added, sensing his disbelief. "I just had a nap."

"A nap isn't good enough. You need a good night's sleep, Addie. Otherwise, you'll wear yourself out."

"I'll get some sleep later, Sam. I promise." She wished he'd stop bugging her. They weren't married or even engaged yet, and it annoyed her that he went around acting like they were. He had no right to tell her what to do.

There was a silence on the other end of the line before Sam said, "I'm coming up there."

"What?" Addison couldn't believe it. The last thing she wanted was for both Sam and Mark to be here. It would be impossible to conceal her true feelings towards Mark in this situation, and they were not feelings she wanted Sam to know about, especially if they might be getting married sometime in the future.

"Relax, Addie. It's only for a few days. They're my friends too, you know," he added defensively.

Addison slumped into the chair behind the nurses' station. "When are you coming?" She wasn't in the mood to argue with him right now.

"Probably late tomorrow. I'm looking at last minute flights right now," he replied, and she could hear the faint sounds of the mouse clicking in the background.

"What about Henry?" It was with a terrible pang of guilt that Addison remembered her son. In all the commotion following the crash and the terror of Mark's possible death, Henry had completely slipped her mind. Perhaps because she knew he was safe in L.A. with Sam—she'd decided this would be a kind of test to see whether or not he really meant all that stuff about wanting to be a family—or perhaps because she had simply been worried about too many other things. Whatever the reason, Addison felt awful. There was no excuse for a parent forgetting about their child, and she couldn't help feeling that this made her a terrible mother. "You can't just leave him in L.A."

"Well, I was going to see if Keisha could take care of him during the day and maybe ask Charlotte and Cooper if they could take him at night."

What a disastrous idea. Keisha couldn't be expected to look after Henry all day for a couple of days, and asking Charlotte and Cooper to take him at night when they already had Mason to deal with was a recipe for disaster. "Why don't you bring him with you?" If there was anything that could make Addison feel better, it was Henry.

"Are you sure?" Sam sounded uncertain about the prospect of flying with Henry.

"Of course I'm sure," Addison snapped. "He's my son, Sam, and I want to see him. I don't know how long I'm going to be in Seattle, and it's not fair for you to be expected to look after him for an indefinite amount of time. Besides, I miss him." That last was true; now that she thought about it, the desire to see hold her son in her arms was overwhelming.

"All right," Sam said hastily, immediately backing off. "I'll call you with the details?"

"Yeah," she said wearily. "I'll meet you at the airport." Which would mean she needed to borrow someone's car. She was pretty sure if she asked Callie really nicely, she might be able to borrow hers. Or Mark's for that matter, since he obviously wouldn't be able to use his right now—though she'd always hated Mark's penchant for sports cars. They were too fast and too finicky, and definitely not a good method of transportation for a baby. She'd probably be better off asking Callie. Or Derek. He and Meredith both had a car, didn't they?

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Addie."

She hung up without saying goodbye. She wished that everyone would stop trying to look after her, especially when there were so many other people that needed to be looked after so much more than she did.

"Addison?"

She looked up, already forming an excuse for why she couldn't talk to whomever it was who was getting her attention, and found the excuses dying when her eyes locked with Callie's. The two women had barely seen each other since Addison's arrival in Seattle, what with Mark being in one ICU and Arizona in another.

"Hey," Addison said wearily, slipping her BlackBerry—now set on Silent because she had no patience to deal with any other calls—back into its case. "How are you holding up?" Hopefully, by asking how Callie was first, she could deflect any questions about how she herself was doing.

Callie sighed. "Pretty good. Arizona's doing much better; they anticipate she's going to make a full recovery." She glanced towards Mark room. "No change?"

Addison shook her head. "He was awake for a little bit and he was talking a little, but he fell asleep again pretty quickly."

"So did you by the looks of it," Callie said with a chuckle, gaze shifting from Mark's door to Addison's hair.

Out of habit, Addison reached up and ran a hand through her hair, as if trying to get it to look normal again. She knew that it probably wouldn't do any good; her hair was already a disaster after having not been washed in a couple of days. Normally she would have had a shower in the locker rooms in an attempt to freshen up and look somewhat human, but she there had been too much on her mind for the last few days and the thought of having a shower had never occurred to her. "Yeah," she said absentmindedly. It was still a little hard to believe that she was so tired she had fallen asleep in a chair, but her rumpled clothes and stiff muscles were incontestable proof. "I guess I did."

Callie frowned, concern etched across her face. "Listen, there's a group of us going to Joe's for drinks; do you want to come?" she asked gently. "You look like you could use a few drinks."

Addison considered. She didn't know many of Callie's friends, and she hated the idea of Mark waking up alone, but the thought of drowning her sorrows in several glasses of vodka was incredibly appealing.

Callie took her silence as a sign of hesitation. "Mark's not going anywhere. He's fast asleep, and—knowing him—he'll probably still be that way when you come back," she persisted. "Besides, everyone knows that alcohol always makes you feel better."

Addison was tempted to point out that alcohol often had a tendency to make you feel worse, especially after the fact, but didn't, as she got the feeling it would make Callie think that she was still hesitant to go. She didn't want to fight with anyone anymore. "All right, all right, I'm coming."

Callie grinned triumphantly. "Great. I've got to go check in with Carolyn before I go and make sure that she's got all of Sofia's stuff. She's taking Sofia and Zola to sleep over at Meredith's tonight—"

"—so you can go and get all out drunk?" Addison couldn't help smiling slightly. Carolyn had taken immediately to both of her granddaughters and was more than happy to babysit the two of them so that Meredith and Callie could stay at the hospital. She and Callie had never met before, but they had quickly come to like each other.

"Well, not necessarily," Callie said, though her grin clearly stated otherwise. "But with this group, you never know. Besides, something tells me you really need to get drunk."

Addison chuckled. "You might just be right."

"I'm always right," Callie replied smugly. "Anyway, I've got to run. I'll meet you there, okay?"

Addison nodded. She knew that the responsible thing was to go back to the hotel and get some sleep, especially with Sam and Henry coming tomorrow, but she was tired of being responsible. Sam was right: she had been worrying too much about looking after everyone else and not enough about herself. She deserved to go out and do something for herself, even if she wasn't going to remember it in the morning.

_That's not the real reason you agreed to go,_ the little voice at the back of her head chided.

Addison frowned. Her subconscious was right, it wasn't the real reason, but it sounded a lot better than the truth: she just wanted to forget about everything for a little while.

* * *

**So Addison's finally decided to go out and do something for herself. And since it involves Callie, alcohol, and her desire to forget about everything (a bad combination, I know), it's going to be one hell of an evening. ;)**

**I'd love it if you'd leave me a review. Who knows? If I get a lot of them, I may just decide to update before Friday! :)**


	7. I'm A Natural Disaster

**A/N: Since I'm away at a friend's cottage on Friday and won't be able to update this before I go, I decided to update before I went. Also, this chapter was just so much fun; I didn't want to put off writing it. **

**So you all know that Addison's headed off to Joe's to get royally drunk with Callie and some of the other women of SGMW. And she will get drunk, really drunk, but first, she has to catch up with some of the stuff she's missed being in L.A. As for Mark, well, he's still miserable. But he has a nice talk with Carolyn.**

**Big thanks to Broadwayfreak5357, Fire Dolphin, and AddieGreysPPPlover9119 for the reviews on the last chapter. You're feedback is greatly appreciated! :)**

**I won't be able to update next week because I'm camping all week, but I will get the next chapter up as soon as I can! Until then, enjoy!**

* * *

Joe's was crowded and noisy, though Addison could hardly say she was surprised. The Emerald City Bar had always been a popular spot for the staff of Seattle Grace—or Seattle Grace Mercy West, as she had to keep reminding herself it was now called—to go for drinks and conversation after a long shift. Tonight, it seemed, was no exception: Addison saw many faces that she recognized from her time working at the hospital, and many that were completely unfamiliar to her.

She'd forgotten how much she missed this place since leaving for L.A. She'd never exactly been what you'd call a frequent customer, but she'd loved the casual atmosphere and the sense of community. Even if you didn't come with a group, there was a strong chance that you would run into at least one person—but normally more—that you knew here, and if you couldn't, Joe was always more than happy to strike up a conversation.

"Addison!" Joe, as always, looked pleased to see her. "You here to join the girls—" he jerked his head to a table over in the corner where she could see Miranda, Meredith, and Dr Altman were already sitting, drinks in hand, "or are you just here on your own?"

"I'm joining the girls," Addison replied with a small smile. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

Joe nodded. "Well, you be careful. They're all pretty ferocious drinkers."

She couldn't help laughing at this. Meredith, she knew, had the constitution of an ox, and could drink many more shots of tequila than you would think could fit in her tiny frame before she even started getting drunk, but Miranda Bailey? Addison was pretty sure she'd never seen the ferocious Bailey drunk ever. "I'll keep my guard up, Joe."

"Good. I suppose you'll be wanting a drink?"

She nodded, fingertips drumming relentlessly on the counter, all too ready for the blissful oblivion that awaited her. "A rum and coke, please." Living in L.A. had seen her drinking too many martinis and fancy cocktails in an effort to reinvent herself and embrace the youthful California spirit. Rum and coke had been her poison of choice for so long, and carried so many memories of painful nights in New York—and even more painful nights in Seattle—that she decided that it was time she found something new to drink. All those flirty cocktails seemed entirely too flimsy for this evening, however. She could do with something a little stronger.

The first sip burned its way down her throat with a reassuring familiarity. It was like embracing an old friend, and Addison felt immediately better. Clutching her glass like a lifeline, she weaved her way through the tables over to where the others were sitting.

"Addison!" Miranda's smile was another thing that had been missed in her years in L.A. It wasn't something that was seen often, but when it was, it was beautiful. The gin and tonic in front of her was half empty, and her coat had already been removed and draped on the back of the chair. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Neither did I until about twenty minutes ago," she replied, sliding into the empty seat next to Teddy. It put her directly across from Meredith, but Addison didn't really care. It was time they got over their differences and made another stab at being friends. "Callie cornered me outside Mark's room and told me I looked like I needed to get drunk. I didn't disagree."

"Wise move, my friend," Teddy declared, despite the fact that the two women barely knew each other. "Callie isn't the kind of person you can disagree with."

Meredith frowned, swirling the tequila in her glass around with a stir stick. "You wanted to get drunk?" Drunkenness wasn't something that conformed to the perfect picture of Addison she knew.

Watching the way the other woman's eyes widened as she took a long sip of her drink reminded Addison that Meredith had never actually seen her drunk before. In fact, the two women had rarely run into each other at Joe's. "Let's just say I reserve excessive drinking for special occasions," she said, setting her glass down more forcefully than necessary. The contents sloshed up, threatening to spill over.

"I'll drink to that." Teddy drained her beer as if to illustrate her point. "Owen told me he wanted me to leave," she clarified, seeing the blank looks on the other's faces.

"But I thought you _wanted _to leave," Miranda said pointedly.

"I did, but I didn't, you know? I mean, I couldn't exactly leave Owen all by himself."

"I thought Owen was married to Cristina?" Addison wasn't sure when she had started referring to Dr Hunt by his first name; it just seemed fitting in light of everything that had happened. As for how she had found out that Owen and Cristina were married; well the rumour mill at Seattle Grace was no secret to anyone.

There was an awkward silence. Meredith stirred her tequila furiously, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Teddy traced her finger around the rim of her beet bottle, clearly unsure of what to say. Miranda shot her a look of pure sympathy, but said nothing. Finally, Teddy spoke. "They're having some, uh, issues."

"Issues?" Addison repeated, brows arching skyward. When talking about marriage—especially marriage to someone like Cristina Yang—that word could mean many things.

Teddy glanced at Meredith, clearly debating whether or not to elaborate. It was obvious that the two of them were aware of what was going on, though that wasn't really surprising: Teddy was Owen's best friend, and Cristina and Meredith...well everyone knew about them.

"Owen cheated on Cristina, and she's thinking about going to Mayo because they've given her a great offer, but she can't decide whether or not she's going to go because she can't figure out whether or not she wants to leave Owen," Meredith blurted.

Another silence descended on the table. Meredith hastily drained the entire glass of tequila and slunk off to get another one, obviously trying to escape the awkwardness she had caused. Addison didn't know what to say. Owen didn't strike her as they type to cheat; on the contrary, he seemed like the kind of person who would be strongly opposed to it. "He _cheated _on her?" she finally said.

Teddy nodded morosely. "In his defence, he was drunk and she got an abortion without consulting him."

This didn't surprise Addison. Cristina wasn't the type to let other people get in the way of what she wanted, and she'd never been the mothering type. She was surprised Cristina and Owen were still together, or at least that Cristina was on the fence about ending it. The Cristina Addison knew saw everything in black and white; for her, there was no grey area.

"She should leave him," Meredith declared emphatically, returning with her glass—once again full—in one hand and a bottle of José Cuervo in the other. "I told Joe that it was a waste of time to make me come back for refills," she added, seeing the looks her bottle was garnering.

Addison was surprised that Meredith had such a cut-and-dried view on this, especially since she was famed for seeing everything in shades of grey—no pun intended.

"I'd kill Derek if he ever cheated on me," she continued, slipping back into her seat.

Though it wasn't intentional, Addison couldn't help feeling the sting of her words. Between Derek, Mark, and Sam, cheating had become a bit of a sore point with her.

"It wasn't that simple, though," Teddy said defensively. "Cristina wasn't completely innocent. She decided to get an abortion without consulting him."

"That doesn't give him an excuse to cheat on her," Meredith shot back.

"Well, it's not like you've never cheated on anyone," Addison snapped, unable to keep old memories of the prom and a certain pair of black panties in the pocket of Derek's tux from springing to mind.

Meredith shot her a dirty look. "Look who's talking."

"So what did I miss?"

Callie's timing could not have been more perfect. Had she been a little bit later getting here, she may have had to break up a catfight.

"Owen cheated on Cristina," Meredith deadpanned.

"And they're all bickering like children about whether or not the she should stay with him or leave him." From Miranda's tone, you'd think she was talking about a group of bothersome children and not surgeons. Though, in this instance, Addison wasn't too sure there was much of a difference. She had no intention of behaving like an adult tonight, and she was pretty sure that everyone else here and similar views.

Callie's eyes widened. "So that _is_ true! I mean, the whole hospital knows they were having relationship problems, and after she accused that nurse on the night shift of sleeping with him..." She shrugged, slipping into the seat beside Addison. "You know how the rumour mill is."

Addison laughed darkly. Oh, she knew all about the rumour mill. She'd spent the better part of two years listening to all the rumours flying around about her ex-husband and his intern girlfriend.

Callie frowned into her margarita for a long minute, as if trying to process something highly confusing. "Wait. Isn't she going to Mayo?"

"That's what she told Owen." Teddy sighed and drained her beer. He's completely shattered, but, of course, he won't admit it."

Meredith emptied her glass. "She's still on the fence about it," she said finally, tone clearly stating that she had no idea why. "The whole plane crash thing has made her reconsider everything."

"What about you, Grey?" Miranda asked, skilfully changing the subject. "Are you and Shepherd still going to Boston?"

Addison's heart wrenched sickeningly. Meredith and Derek were moving to Boston? They couldn't, not now. Mark needed everyone here to help him get through this, especially Derek and Addison. They were his oldest friends; hell, Derek was like his _brother_. They couldn't leave now.

Meredith refilled her glass and contemplated it for a while before answering. All the ease was gone from her face; in fact, she looked visibly uncomfortable. "Harvard isn't sure they want him anymore. After everything that's happened with his hand..."

There was another long silence. Nobody knew exactly what to say. Addison wished there was something she could say to comfort the other woman, but she couldn't help feeling incredibly relieved that she and Derek weren't going anywhere yet. Mark needed them, and she wasn't so sure that she was ready to say goodbye to them yet either.

* * *

Death wasn't something Mark had ever given much thought to. His was a job that involved skirting death on a regular basis; not so much in plastics, but working in a hospital brought him in contact with death every day. He'd had plenty of personal experiences with death too: his parents, his and Addison's baby, George, Reed, Charles, Izzie, Alex, Meredith, Amy. Most of them had survived, and most of the ones that had died were colleagues, people that he just happened to know through work. Some of them—his parents, Callie, Sofia, Amy, Derek—had been more personal, more frightening. His mother's death had been hard. His father's, less so; Robert Sloan had essentially died the day his wife did. Nearly losing Callie and Sofia had been terrifying, but deep down inside he'd known they were going to make it. He'd had faith in life. Ditto with Derek. He figured that between losing his parents and Addison, life would be on his side. So when Lexie had been lying under the plane telling him she was dying, he'd told her she was going to live. He believed that because she'd missed out on so much with him that she'd be okay. They were meant to be. He'd always known that, and so he'd let things pan out the way they did. He'd let Lexie date Jackson, because he knew she needed time to get ready. He'd believed they'd have forever. Even when she was lying there in the woods, he'd believed she'd be okay. Derek and Meredith were meant to be, and Derek had survived the shooting, so, by default, Lexie had to live.

Now that she was dead, he looked at death differently. It was something he longed for, some warm, sweet place he yearned to go. He wanted to embrace it because she was there, and he couldn't. He put his faith in life, had it had failed when Lexie did. So he'd put his faith in death, and it had failed when he survived. He didn't know what to believe in any more.

Addison had left while he was asleep, and Carolyn Shepherd had taken her place. It was like they were afraid to leave him alone. _You needn't be,_ he thought bitterly. _Death doesn't want me_.

She wasn't waiting for him to wake up; in fact, she hadn't even noticed he was awake. She had dragged the chair slightly away from his bedside—possibly to give him some more space—and was reading a Nora Roberts book. He snuck a peek at the title. _High Noon_. Lexie had read that one, before Sofia was born. She'd told him about it, but he didn't remember what it was about. Now he wished he'd paid more attention.

Of all the people who had been by to visit him since the crash, Carolyn was the one he was the most glad to see. Since he'd met Derek at the tender age of six, she had been the mother he'd never had. He'd rarely called her mom—it was normally Mrs Shepherd or Aunt Carolyn—but he'd always thought of her that way. _She_ had raised him, not Barbara Sloan, which was why she was the one person he really wanted to see right now. Even though he was forty-four years old, he still clung to that childhood belief that Carolyn could make anything better. He knew she couldn't fix everything—she hadn't been able to repair things between him, Derek, and Addie—but she always knew how to make him feel better. There was nothing he wanted to do more than curl up in her arms and stay there.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Mark asked, unable to remain silent any longer.

Carolyn looked up from her book slowly, as if he'd simply asked her what time it was. The look on her face told him she'd known the minute he woke up, but had been waiting for him to make the first move. She'd never been the type of mother to impose herself; she was there for her children whenever they needed her, but she let them come to her. They were adults now, and she treated them as such. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Mark Sloan?"

Though they were both adults now—adults who hadn't seen each other in the better part of two years—you'd never know it; judging by her tone he was still the six year-old who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The familiarity was reassuring in a time like this: a time where everything was changing.

"Of course not, Aunt Caro. I just thought you had better things to be doing with your time than watching me sleep," Mark replied. He didn't want her to get the wrong impression: he was glad that she was here, but he didn't want her here out of obligation. He wasn't going anywhere.

She chuckled. "You haven't changed at all, have you Mark? Still thinking that everything is about you. I was looking for a nice, quiet place to read my book, and figured that some company wouldn't hurt."

Mark knew that wasn't true. "Derek and the girls—"

"Are all fine. Amelia's taken the girls home for the night, and Derek has seen more than enough of me for one day. He needs his rest. He hasn't been sleeping at all hours like you have."

Mark didn't say anything for a while. He knew that Carolyn was teasing, but her comment still made him think. It had never occurred to him that his desire to sleep all the time was affecting everyone else. He'd only been thinking about himself the whole time, about getting to be with Lexie. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling like a scolded child again.

"Don't be," Carolyn said firmly. "You just had an incredibly invasive surgical procedure. I'm sure you remember Derek was practically incoherent for the first hew days after his heart surgery; he'd had so much morphine. You're entitled to all the rest you need. And if you'd rather rest without anyone here, than there's no shame in saying so. I'm more than happy to stay, but I can go if you want."

"Stay. Please," he whispered, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes for a moment. The pain in his chest wouldn't go away, and Lexie's ghost filled the room like an agonizing shadow. He needed something to try and ease the aching, and—going on past experience—nothing worked better than the presence of Mrs Shepherd. He'd also noticed she hadn't said she was sorry for what happened, something for which he was grateful. He didn't need anyone's pity.

"Al right. Mark may have imagined it, but he could have sworn she seemed a little relieved. "Are you feeling any better?"

He sighed, an action that caused the pain in his chest to flare up. Was he feeling better? The pain from the surgery hadn't gotten worse, nor had it gotten any better; he'd simply gotten used to it. The pain of the loss of Lexie, however, wasn't something he'd been able to get used to. It would fade a little sometimes, blend in with the other pain, and then something would happen and it would all come rushing back with a vengeance. "Not really," he said finally.

Carolyn set aside her book and scooted her chair closer. Her face—like most others—was full of sadness, but instead of it being accompanied by pity or concern, it was full of understanding. She knew exactly what he was dealing with; her husband had been murdered twenty-two years ago.

"Does it ever go away?" His question came out so quietly he wasn't sure if she had heard. He couldn't help but be reminded of his fifteen year-old self, sprawled on the couch in the Shepherd's living room after his first girlfriend broke up with him, asking Carolyn if he was always going to feel this miserable. Some things, he supposed, just never changed.

Carolyn didn't say anything for a while. Seeing her expression, Mark was pretty sure he had his answer, but he didn't want to believe it until he heard her say it. He couldn't live like this.

"It fades with time," she said gently, rubbing his hand. In amidst all the tubes and wires that forced him on his back, it was the closest thing she could get to the soothing back rub he'd always loved. "I know it feels like everything is ending now, like you won't be able to go on, but you will. You'll realize that there are still things worth living for."

Mark contemplated this. Lexie's death had put everything that happened after Christopher Shepherd's murder into perspective. He understood what Carolyn had felt, and the fact that she'd gone on to raise six kids was incredible. "You were so strong, Aunt Caro. After he died..."

Carolyn squeezed his hand. "And you will be too, Mark. You're not alone. You've got Sofia and Callie, and us. We're not going anywhere."

He could feel the lump rising in the back of his throat. She was right: he wasn't alone, but the one person who really mattered was now gone. "I just miss her so much," he whispered brokenly.

"I know, darling. I know," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him as best she could. Encased in her arms, he let himself cry.

* * *

"My best friend told me to get the hell out of here and take the job with Med Corps," Teddy declared, grabbing a shot and draining it with clinical precision.

"Yeah, well my best friend just had heart surgery and has a not-so-subtle death wish," Callie countered, draining a shot of her own.

They were playing "Who's Got It Worse?" Addison had never heard of it before, but Meredith assured them it was a bona fide drinking game. "Cristina and I used to play it all the time," she'd said. Addison had been sorely tempted to make a smart remark about how the fact that Meredith and Cristina used to play it all the time when they were interns hardly made it a legitimate drinking game, but didn't.

The rules of the game were simple: you said something about your life that was awful and then took a shot to make yourself feel better. The point was to try and convince everyone else that your life was worse than theirs. Addison was confident that she was going to win—a confidence partially borne from the buzz in her veins that was left over from several rum and cokes.

"My best friend told me that Owen has replaced me as her person." This wasn't really something that anyone else considered terrible—in fact, most of them thought of it as a regular part of life—but to Meredith, it was huge.

"You do still have Derek," Addison couldn't resist pointing out.

"He's her husband. He's supposed to be her person," Teddy said loudly, a sure-fire sign that she was well on her way to being thoroughly intoxicated.

"Yeah, and you and Derek have been together for years," Callie said, her tone making it obvious she thought this wasn't good enough to be a part of the game. "You haven't been each others people in a while."

"I never told her she wasn't my person!" Meredith protested. "It's just that Derek was my person too."

Callie, however, refused to be swayed. "Two shots." Somehow, she had ended up as the umpire; something that Addison was sure would have dire consequences come morning. It was Callie's responsibility to resolve disputes and occasionally dole out punishments as she saw fit. In this case, since she—and everyone else, though her opinion was really the only one that mattered—had deemed Meredith's statement to be insufficiently miserable for the game, Meredith had to drink an extra shot as punishment. Though upset about losing the argument, she had no qualms with complying.

Addison felt a little bit bad for her. She did have a point: while both women had silently acknowledged that their husbands took slight precedence over each other, it was another thing entirely to hear your best friend tell you outright that you're no longer her person.

"Ben asked me to marry him."

Miranda's voice silenced everyone. Four pairs of eyes stared at her: Meredith's seemed surprised that she was saying anything, rather than at the news itself; Teddy and Callie's were pleasantly surprised—they obviously knew about the relationship but not the proposal; and Addison's was simply surprised. She was happy that Miranda had found someone after everything that had gone on with Tucker, but she still couldn't help feeling left out. Tired of being in the dark, Addison decided to take matters in her own hands. "Who's Ben?"

Everyone turned to her, having forgotten, it seemed, that she was the only one not up to date with the gossip. "Anesthesiologist. Transferred here from Mercy West with the merger two years ago. He's pretty cute, and definitely knows how to seduce." Callie waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"He is not—" Miranda protested, flustered, and then broke off when all four women stared at her disbelievingly. "Okay, maybe," she mumbled reluctantly.

"I'm still not seeing how this is a bad thing," Teddy said, frowning.

"Yeah." Addison couldn't help but agree. "I mean, I don't know him, but from the sounds of it, he's attractive, successful, probably really good in bed—"

"Really good in bed," Miranda corrected, a giddy smile spreading across her face. Addison couldn't smother her own smile. Miranda Bailey was definitely drunk; otherwise she'd never be talking about her sex life with co-workers.

"Okay, really good in bed, and obviously smart. What's not to love?" Considering her own disaster of a love life, she couldn't understand what was so wrong with this proposal.

"He's gotten accepted as an intern at UCLA," she deadpanned. "And didn't tell me he was applying."

"Oh." There was a shocked silence.

"Sympathy shots!" Callie cried, reaching for a glass. Everyone else followed suit. Addison couldn't escape the flashbacks to freshman year of college. She and Savvy had spent many nights—far too many in her opinion—losing themselves in the oblivion of shots. The tequila burned its way down her throat, reminding her again of the long litany of reasons she had always hated it. Reasons that she was more than happy to forget tonight.

"What about you, Addie? We haven't heard anything from you yet," Callie prodded, trying to get the game in motion again.

"My mom committed suicide." The words seemed to flow out of her before she could stop them.

Everyone was surprised. Her family was never something she had talked about while she was in Seattle.

"What?" Callie's eyes were like saucers.

"When?" Miranda asked.

"Last year. Her wife had cancer, which we thought we'd cured, but apparently she hadn't, and anyway, she died at their wedding and my mother couldn't handle living without her I guess."

"Wife?" Callie exclaimed. "I thought your parents—"

"Were married? Yeah me too," Addison said bitterly. "I always thought my father was just this adulterous asshole, but it turns out the only reason he was like that was because my mother had a lesbian lover for twenty years. Anyway, it's fine. I'm okay with it now."

She hated the way they were all staring at her, eyes full of pity. Meredith, surprisingly, was the only one who didn't say anything; instead, she reached across the table and handed Addison another shot.

"Thanks," she mumbled, tossing it back. The burn of the alcohol soothed the ache of loss rearing its ugly head in her chest.

The conversation moved on quickly to other things: Teddy's dead husband, the fact that Arizona may never walk again, the imbalance of Derek's career. They didn't mention Lexie's death, but they were all thinking about it.

"Sam's coming to town," Addison declared. "With Henry." Several more shots of tequila and a beer—something for which she had never developed a taste—had induced a strange feeling of weightlessness in her.

"Sam? As in Sam who came to visit Archer Sam?" Miranda's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't like him."

Addison laughed. Miranda's last experience with Sam hadn't exactly been the best. "Yeah. He's coming up from L.A. tomorrow. Thinks I'm not looking after myself properly."

Meredith snorted. "Are any of us?"

"Wait, who's Henry?" Callie asked.

"My son." The shocked silence was gratifying. Addison—especially drunk Addison—had always loved being able to silence a whole room of people.

"You had a—Congratulations!" Callie cried. They all knew how much Addison had wanted a baby.

"He's not mine. Well, he is. He's adopted," she explained. "I got him a few months ago."

"I think this deserves a drink." Teddy passed out glasses briskly. "To baby Henry!"

"To baby Henry," they echoed, tipping back their shots. Addison wasn't sure how well she was going to be able to stand up after this. The thought of trying to was very amusing.

"So are you and Sam like...you know, together?" Callie had an uncanny knack of knowing things about Addie.

"I don't know." Here was where things got tricky. "He asked me to marry him, but I don't know because there's this guy named Jake who's really yummy and would be a great dad for Henry, too."

"Well, at least he's not trying to move to L.A.," Miranda said, reaching for another shot.

"Yeah, but he's coming _here_!" No one else seemed to understand how disastrous this was.

"And?" Callie prodded, sensing there was more to this story than they had been told.

"Well, Mark is here, and him and Mark...not a good idea." Just the thought of it made Addison reach for another shot.

"I thought they were friends." Meredith said, refilling the glasses. She poured as much tequila on the tray as she did in the glasses. No one seemed to notice.

"That's not the problem," Addison said. The whole situation suddenly struck her as incredibly funny, and she couldn't hold back the laughter. It exploded from her chest, and she could feel all the worry and panic she'd been feeling at the thought of them here together disappearing.

Everyone looked at her for a moment, before joining in the laughter, though none of them knew what was funny.

"So, I don't get it," Callie said, wiping tears from her eyes, as their laughter finally died down. "What's the problem?"

"I'm in love with Mark."

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it! Addison's let her secret slip, and Mark had a heart-to-heart with Carolyn Shepherd. This chapter ended up being really long, which is good because there won't be another one for two weeks, but I didn't think it would work if it was any shorter. The next chapter is definitely going to be interesting...Sam's coming, and there are several people who now know about the complicated situation between him, Mark, and Addie. **

**Reviews are always greatly appreciated!**


	8. Sunday Morning After

**A/N: So I had this plan that I was going to go camping and write this whole chapter while I was gone so that I could type it up during my eight-hour layover at the Vancouver airport on the way to Hawaii. Needless to say, **_**that**_** didn't happen. I think I might have written two sentences while I was camping, and I'm pretty sure they got scrapped because they sucked. Hence the fact that this update is waaaay later than I ever wanted it to be. The only pro is that since it was so late, you guys got a super long, intense chapter to make up for it, and the promise that the update won't be so late next time. I can't guarantee it will be exactly a week from today, I am on holidays after all, and I don't have as much time to write as I would like, but I will really try. Things are flowing and I have a very good idea where the next chapter is going to go, so we should be good. **

**Also, for those of you who are following this story and my other story, How We Operate, the update on that one may take a while to put up. I haven't actually started writing it yet (which makes me cringe to think about), but I'm not a hundred percent sure where the story is going, and I want to figure that out before I keep writing. I'm hoping to have something up soon, though. **

**Finally (and it really is the last thing; I apologize for the super long note, which most of you probably won't read) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED THE LAST CHAPTER! Seriously, I love it. Reviews make my day**

* * *

At first, Addison thought she had a concussion. The dizziness, the splitting headache, and the slightly nauseated feeling were all big, red arrows pointing in the direction of the head injury. After a moment, however, she realized that the headache wasn't the same kind of headache she'd suffered when she'd gotten concussed in freshman year gym class, but the kind she suffered when she was recovering from a night of excessive drinking. The way the world swam in a blur of colour and the faint light filling the room burned her eyes were other sure-fire signs that she was hung-over.

She wasn't a heavy drinker. She drank often—this she wouldn't deny—but normally it was a glass of wine after work or a celebratory cocktail after a particularly successful surgery. She wasn't up in the big leagues with the Merediths and Cristinas, so she tended to avoid copious amounts of alcohol. Addison could count the number of times since college she had gotten so drunk she couldn't remember it the next morning on one hand—if you excluded the first few weeks after Derek had left for Seattle, which she did. She'd learned after one too many evenings spent doing shots in college that drinking to the point where you passed out was disastrous—especially the morning after—though that lesson seemed to have gone out the window.

As she did, and had been doing every morning post-blackout since the first time when she was seventeen, Addison took stock of what she knew. There was something terrifying about waking up in the morning feeling like you had been run over by a truck and not remembering what had happened the night before—especially for someone like Addison, who relished being in control—and making a list of the things she did know was both reassuring and calming.

There was a kink the size of Texas in her neck. Her head was pounding and her tongue felt engorged and seemed to fill her mouth, which had the same fuzzy feeling you got after eating peach skins. There was something square and squashy underneath her back, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a sofa cushion. It was leather and squashy, not unlike the ones she had at home, but not exactly the same.

Addison sat up slowly, letting the blood rush away from her head and trying not to groan as the world tipped precariously. The room was unfamiliar: small and slightly cluttered. A black leather sofa loomed off to her left, while a coffee table was level with her right shoulder. There was a breakfast bar further off to the right, and a frosted glass door in the corner leading off to God-only-knew-where.

It was definitely an apartment, only not one she recognized. For a moment, she panicked, wondering how she'd let herself end up in some man's apartment—at least she assumed it was a man, who else would she be going home with piss drunk?—and how she was going to extricate myself from the situation—and oh God what about Sam and Jake?—but paused when she realized the light filtering in through the window was grey. A very familiar grey, as a matter of fact. Seattle grey.

It all came rushing back to her suddenly, like a floodgate had opened. There had been a plane crashed, and she had come to help out. Mark had been injured, as had Derek, and Lexie had died. Sam had called to say he was coming out with Henry, and Callie had invited her to Joe's and..._Oh God._ She'd said things she never wanted any of those women to know, like Bizzy's secrets and being in love with Mark. She'd told _Meredith_ she was in love with Mark, and now Sam was coming. This was perfect. Absolutely fucking wonderful.

A groan from her left caused Addison to jump, right shoulder slamming painfully into the underside of the coffee table. Cursing and clutching her injured joint, she turned to see Meredith Grey herself stirring on the other side of the table. She was pleased to note that Meredith also looked appropriately miserable; it seemed that despite her champion ability to hold alcohol, she got hangovers just as bad as everyone else. That couldn't completely dampen the feeling of horror that _Meredith_ had to be the one she was first encountering this morning. Not only was she of the last people who Addison ever wished to witness her hangovers, it was also highly unlikely that she had suffered blackouts as severe as Addison had—if at all.

Meredith sat up slowly, looking decidedly pale, and took a moment to gather her bearings. Addison sincerely hoped the other woman would have some inkling as to where they were—these were her friends after all, and for Addison, everything after her confessions about her feelings for Mark was a blur. She was sorely tempted to ask where they were, but was already humiliated enough as it was to risk further bruising her pride.

"Jesus," Meredith croaked, sweeping a hand across her face in a vain attempt to push back her hair. "I haven't been that drunk since...well since before Derek and I were engaged."

"Mmm." Addison nodded, desperately searching Meredith's face for any sign that she remembered what had gone on last night. "Where are we?"

The question slipped out before she could stop it, mostly because she was so busy thinking about whether or not Meredith remembered her extremely drunken confessions that she simply stopped thinking before speaking. Meredith, however, didn't seem at all surprised; in fact, Addison got the distinct impression that Meredith was no stranger to waking up in strange apartments.

"We're at Callie's," she replied, beginning the lengthy process of heaving herself off the floor. "Joe took all of our keys, and hers is the closest place. We walked. I think." She frowned as if trying to remember something important that hadn't made it on the grocery list.

Bits and pieces came back to Addison then, like disjointed movie clips. There was something familiar about walking, and something about a very rowdy, inappropriate game of charades...

Shaking her head, Addison shoved the fragments away, hoping never to have to remember them again. Last night was right up there on the list of worst and most embarrassing nights of her life, possibly made worse than all the others by the fact that she was so old. Most of her most humiliating moments had all occurred before graduating from medical school, and had all definitely happened before her fortieth birthday, and here she was, forty-four years old, waking up with a massive hangover and fragmented memories of humiliatingly personal confessions and wildly inappropriate games of charades. She didn't even want to think about it anymore.

According to Meredith, they were in Callie's apartment, and this Addison didn't doubt, but there was no sign of Callie herself. Addison assumed that she was in her bedroom getting some sleep on a more civilized bed than the floor, but was proven wrong when Meredith said, "Callie's gone to work. She and Bailey left about an hour ago."

Addison felt a rush of sympathy for the other women. Waking up early when you had a hangover was terrible, and having to wake up early to go to work with a hangover was even worse. "Miranda had to work today?"

Meredith shook her head. "Callie was giving her a ride home. She has to go pick up Tuck from his dad's in a few hours."

"Oh." Having to take care of your six year-old wasn't much better than having to go in to work. In fact, it might be even more work. "Callie's not working today, is she?"

"I don't think so. She said something about going out to get Sofia and maybe going to visit Mark. Coffee?" Meredith had been casually poking around the kitchen and seemed to have stumbled upon a full pot of coffee and mugs laid out on the counter. God bless Callie.

Addison nodded, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. Doping yourself up on coffee to get rid of a hangover or to sober you up was an urban legend, but it worked wonders in terms of keeping her awake. She had to pick Sam and Henry up at the airport later today, and had plans to stop by the hospital and visit Derek—something she'd been meaning to do yesterday—and maybe Mark sometime today, so she needed to be as alert as possible. Sam wouldn't fail to notice the hangover, and it would only reinforce his earlier point that she wasn't able to take care of herself.

Ordinarily, Addison would have been shocked to find herself in this situation. Meredith Grey was the last person with which she'd ever want to share a cup of coffee in the morning after a long night of drunken debauchery. In light of everything that had happened, however, Addison was far from surprised. Everything she'd never thought could possibly happen seemed to be happening.

Until Sam had called, it had been like she was having an out of body experience. It was like witnessing a surgery from the gallery: she was actively aware of everything that was going on, but she wasn't directly connected to anything. A little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that it was all a dream, and that she'd wake up the next morning drenched in cold sweat with a resolve to pick up the phone and call Mark to see how he was doing. Now that Sam and Henry were coming though, there was no possibility that this was a dream. Her real life and this bizarre, terrifying one were now converging, and she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

Meredith didn't ask her what she took in her coffee, she simply handed it to her black. Normally, Addison took hers with plenty of cream and sugar, but black was probably best in terms of fighting her hangover. 'Thanks," she mumbled, wrapping her hands around the mug in hopes of absorbing some of its heat. Callie's apartment was slightly cool, and Addison's body temperature had a tendency to drop drastically when she was hung-over.

There was a long, tense silence as the two women sipped their coffee. Meredith wasn't one for conversation, and, after last night, Addison didn't really feel in the mood to talk. Besides, Meredith Grey had never really been someone she'd ever felt in the mood to talk to, and certainly not in these circumstances. Had it been Callie here instead, or perhaps even Teddy, she would have been regaling all the embarrassments of the evening and bemoaning the fact that she had to meet Sam and Henry at the airport later that day, but Meredith didn't seem like the type who would be inclined to listen to the woes of Addison's life. They'd both come to an unspoken agreement that they'd talk when they had to, and that their personal lives would—for the most part—stay out of those mandatory conversations.

The loud vibrations of Meredith's BlackBerry against the table startled both women. Meredith flinched, mug halfway to her mouth, sending a stream of coffee that should have gone into her mouth streaming down the front of her sweater instead. Addison would have laughed, or at least tried very hard not to smile, had she not jumped as well and nearly fallen, most gracelessly, off her stool, coffee sloshing over the side of her mug and dripping onto the breakfast bar in a tepid, brown puddle.

From the couch, there came a groan that caused both women to start again, Meredith now halfway across the room, and Addison searching for napkins to clean up the spill. Unbeknownst to both women, Teddy was still here, and had—until very recently—been asleep on the couch. Mouthing a hasty, "Sorry," in Teddy's direction, Meredith snatched up the phone like it was a Godsend and tiptoed off to the corner to take the call.

"Wow," Teddy moaned, running a hand through her hair. "I don't think I've been this hung-over since...I can't even remember when." She pushed herself up off the couch, moving cautiously, and trying not to grimace. She was obviously one of those people who got hit harder than the rest when it came to hangovers.

"Coffee?" Addison asked, helpfully. She was surprised that Teddy couldn't remember the last time she'd been in such a state; if it had been her husband who had died so recently, she would still be a mess.

"Please." Teddy half-stumbled to the breakfast bar, using Callie's living room furniture the same way an elderly person might use a cane. "I'm supposed to be checking up on Mark Sloan in half an hour." She flopped down onto a stool, head dropping into her hands. "I might not technically work here anymore, but I don't think anyone would be pleased if I showed up to work like this."

"Mark might." The words slipped out before Addison could stop them, and she instantly wished she could take them back. Mark was one of those things she'd promised herself she wouldn't talk about this morning, lest she jog anyone's memory about what had happened last night. She clutched the edge of the counter top so tightly that her knuckles threatened to burst through the skin overtop, which had turned paper white, waiting for the look to flash across Teddy's face, the look that said she knew everything, but none came. If Teddy remembered—which seemed highly unlikely at this point—she had excellent control over her facial features. Instead she just pushed herself up off the bar so that she was sitting in a more upright position, gave a half-hearted laugh, and said, "Yeah. That might make his day."

Addison smiled weakly, feeling immensely relieved that Teddy hadn't remembered anything. _It would be incredibly awkward if she had_, she thought to herself, as she filled an empty coffee mug for Teddy. _We barely even know each other, and, besides, she's Mark's doctor. She could easily let something slip in front of him._

Things were looking good so far. If Meredith remembered anything, she hadn't let on, and Teddy clearly hadn't remembered anything. She had no idea if Miranda would remember anything at all, but knew that—if she did—her friend would have the tact not to mention anything to anyone. Callie was a different story. Addison was fairly confident that Callie remembered everything from the night before, and would no doubt want to talk about it at the first opportunity. She probably wouldn't share it with Mark, but she also had a track record of ranting and revealing information she probably shouldn't, so God only knew what could happen.

"That was Carolyn," Meredith said, as she re-entered the kitchen, despite the fact that no one had asked who was calling. "She and Amelia are heading in to the hospital, so I've got to go and watch Zola for a bit."

"I should probably get going too. I don't have to check on Mark for another half-hour, but I'm going to need a long shower and another cup of coffee or two before I'm even remotely close to being human again," Teddy said, slowly pushing herself up from the stool, coffee cup clutched in one hand. "I'll bring this back sometime," she added, nodding to the cup, and then headed towards the door to gather her things.

"I should get going too." Addison had no desire to stay in the apartment any longer. It was a place that was now associated with humiliating memories she'd rather forget permanently. "I have to get back to the hotel and change."

"Oh. Okay." Meredith looked at her nervously, obviously wrestling with some inner conflict. "Do you want a ride?"

"I can just take a cab," Addison said quickly.

"Okay," Meredith said, looking visibly relieved. Neither of them really wanted to spend any more time with each other. "Well, if you want me to swing by on my way to the hospital..."

"I'll let you know," Addison replied, knowing full well that she'd just take a cab.

"Great."

There was a long awkward silence.

"Well, this has been fun, but I hope none of you are offended when I say I really hope it doesn't happen again any time soon." Teddy took a long sip of her coffee and opened the door. "I think I've consumed more alcohol in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last year."

"Me too," Addison said, trying not to think about exactly how many drinks she'd had last night. She slipped out the door after Teddy and Meredith, shutting the door behind her.

"Well, I guess I'll see you all at the hospital," Meredith said quietly, before fleeing.

The other two women watched her go. "Let's just not talk about this ever again," Teddy said finally.  
Addison nodded. She couldn't agree more.

* * *

_They were hiking in Mt Rainier National Park. It had been Lexie's idea, which Mark had found surprising; she'd never struck him as the outdoorsy type. He certainly wasn't, a fact that was well known throughout the hospital; in fact, Callie and Derek had laughed when he told them that he and Lexie were spending a weekend camping at Mt Rainier. "You don't camp, Mark," Derek had said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You _hate_ camping." Derek knew better than anyone about Mark's dislike of all things outdoors; he'd spent many years trying to convince Mark to go camping with him, and, when that failed, had listened to the litany of complaints every time Mark visited him at the trailer. _

_ He supposed it was proof he and Lexie were destined for each other. He hadn't willingly gone camping since Christopher Shepherd had died, and yet, here he was packing a duffel bag and buying a tent, despite Derek's offer to lend him his—Mark may be going camping, but he was going to do it in the most civilized fashion possible, which meant a tent big enough for at least six people even though there were only two of them. _

"If you don't marry her, Mark, I'll personally kick your ass."_ Callie's words from several months ago echoed in his head. _"She's changed you for the better."

_ And she had. He'd never been camping with a girlfriend before. He'd never felt such a strong desire to protect and please another person. Hell, he'd never even considered marriage before she'd come along, and now he was engaged. _

_ The hike had also been Lexie's idea. Mark had been more than happy to sit around the campground all weekend, having cookouts, swimming, and making love, both in the tent and under the stars, but she'd insisted that you couldn't go to Mt Rainier and not hike. Apparently, she used to come here with her family all the time as a kid, and had discovered several amazing trails. _

_They had been hiking about an hour or so, lugging backpacks full of water, power cars, and a picnic lunch that would be eaten at a little spot Lexie knew of that boasted amazing views of the park, when they hit a clearing. It didn't look like a natural clearing, but rather as if something large had crashed into it, something like, say, an airplane. There were a few fallen trees and some bare patches of dirt where it looked like all the vegetation had been forcibly removed. Lexie didn't take any notice of it; in fact, she marched right b y it as if it wasn't even there, but Mark couldn't move. The clearing was the one from the dreams that had been haunting him for weeks, dreams where their plane crashed and he woke up after major heart surgery to discover Lexie was dead. He wasn't even sure if the clearing was real, or if it was simply the dreams coming to haunt him again; they were so terrifyingly vivid that he'd begun to have difficulty convincing himself they weren't real. He wasn't the type to remember his dreams, nor was he the type to have nightmares. He even found himself wondering if _this_ was the dream, and hated it. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life doubting its reality._

_There must be something wrong with him. There was no other explanation for it. He was seeing things. Hallucinating, and that was never a good thing. The last person he'd known who had hallucinations was Izzie, and she'd had brain cancer. _

"_Mark?"_

_Lexie's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. She stood several feet ahead of him, watching him with mild concern. "Are you okay?"_

_He shook his head firmly, hoping the clearing would disappear. It didn't, and he tried to suppress the panic and anger that were beginning to rise up. What if it was cancer? "It's just...this is where the plane crashed, Lex."_

_For a moment, she was silent, a sad look on her face. Mark hated that look—full of concern and sympathy—and it made him only more frustrated at himself. It shouldn't be this way. They were supposed to be enjoying a relaxing weekend, which he was ruining. He scraped a hand through his hair, trying to resist the urge to hit something. _

"_Mark..." Lexie began softly, reaching out towards him._

"_I just want it to stop!" he cried furiously. "They're everywhere I go, Lexie. Everywhere! I wake up every morning haunted by these dreams that are so real that I'm not even sure they're dreams. I spend every day worrying that this is the dream, that I'm going to wake up and find that you're gone, or that something is going to come and take you away from me, and I hate it." He paused, the anger rushing out of him like air from a balloon, leaving nothing but defeat. "I don't even know what's real anymore, Lex. I just want it to stop," he whispered. _

_She sighed, her face tortured. "I wish I could help you. I really do. But I can't. You've got to do this on your own, Mark. You've got to let go."_

Let go?_ What the hell was she talking about?_

"_This isn't reality, Mark," she said softly, seeing the confusion on his face. "The camping trip, the basketball games, the lake, me, none of this is real. This is just you refusing to deal with what's happened. I've let it go on because you needed it, but you can't keep coming back here. You can't do this forever."_

_Part of him wasn't surprised—he'd been becoming more and more suspicious of his reality simply because it seemed so _perfect_—but that didn't make the admission any less painless. As unrealistically perfect as this world seemed, the alternative was too painful to bear. "Lex, I don't want—" He tried to voice his feelings, to tell her that he couldn't let go of this dream because reality hurt too much, but there was a lump in his throat blocking the words. _

_She bit her bottom lip, tears brimming in her eyes. "I know," she whispered, coming close and taking him in her arms. "I know you don't. But you'll be okay, Mark. You can do this."_

_He shook his head, pulling her closer too him. He'd missed this so much, this ability to hold her, to feel the warmth of her body and inhale her smell, a mixture of soap, disinfectant, and strawberry shampoo, and he never wanted to let her go. "I can't, Lexie. I can't make it without you."_

_She pulled away from him slightly, fixing him with her serious, dark gaze. "Yes you can, Mark. And you're not going to be without me. I'm always going to be right here," she said, tapping his heart with her fingertips. "You'll always have me. In fact, you've always had me. You just didn't know it, and I was too proud to tell you."_

"_Lexie—" There were a million and one things that he wanted to say to her, but before the words could make their way out, everything slipped through his fingers like sand and then there was nothing._

Mark emerged from slumber groggily, as if he were trying to shove his way out of a vat of molasses, to something cold being pressed against his chest. He'd been dreaming about something—what he couldn't remember, but it was certainly more pleasant than this. He lay still in bed for a moment, hoping that if he pretended to still be asleep, the cold thing would go away and leave him in peace. He really wanted to get back to that dream.

There was a brief moment of relief as the cold thing lifted from his chest, but was short-lived as the thing came down again slightly to the left. Unable to contain his discomfort any longer, Mark opened his eyes with a groan and tried to roll over—though all he had the strength to do was shift his weight slightly to one side—in an attempt to shift whatever it was that was disturbing his slumber. The room swam in a blur of dizzying colour that made his stomach churn, and his chest flared painfully at the sudden movement, but the cold thing retreated, if only temporarily.

"Good morning, Dr Sloan," said a disembodied voice from somewhere within the blur. "I'm just performing a routine check-up, and then you can go back to sleep." The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put a face to it.

The room swam back into focus, and Mark realized that the disembodied voice belonged to the attractive, thirty-something nurse who had been looking after him every since he'd woken up from surgery. He tried to remember her name, and fought to dispel the frustration that he couldn't. He did remember that she was very kind, and had a sense of humour, two things that he had always greatly appreciated in a woman. Not to mention her looks...

In another time, Mark wouldn't have hesitated to flirt rather shamelessly with the young nurse, and would have ended up tumbling into a bed—or perhaps a supply closet—with her within a few days of being discharged. They'd have one—or possibly a few more—heated encounters, and then he would move on to another woman, and they would pretend it had never happened. The affair wouldn't mean anything to him; it was merely a means of satisfying his voracious sexual appetite.

Now, however, simply the thought made him feel like he was going to be sick. Lexie was _dead._ He shouldn't be so much as looking at another woman, let alone thinking what he might have done to her had he been his "old" self. Just the fact that he had even noticed another woman made him feel dirty, the way he fancied he might feel if he had ever cheated on Lexie, and brought on an onslaught of memories of the time that she had confessed to sleeping with Alex. She'd been so embarrassed, so nervous to admit it, and then so relieved when he'd told her he'd slept with Addison—a confession that had had him twisted up with guilt for days prior, and had him filled with terror at the thought of her spurned reaction—that he probably could have handled the situation a little more graciously, if only he'd been able to get past the nauseating fury ripping through him. The thought of Alex Karev touching his Lexie—or even seeing her, for that matter—naked, the thought of him filling her and riding her until she came undone, made him torn between the desire to beat Alex senseless and to be sick. And the fact that she had moved on so quickly was even more wounding. He had slept with Addison out of need to fill the void, the huge aching void left in Lexie's absence—a void that she had caused—whereas Lexie—it seemed—was simply jumping from one man to another. Mark had been grieving, wounded, while Lexie was simply satisfying her voracious sexual appetite. In retrospect, he shouldn't have been as harsh with her as he had been, after all, just because she broke up with him hadn't meant that she wasn't as tortured as he was about it. The whole business with Sloane and her baby had been a little sudden.

The nurse finished her check-up without saying anything else. She assumed that Mark was simply too tired to be up for a conversation, and for that he was grateful. He really didn't have the energy to try and talk to her right now, and he didn't want to subject himself to anymore of the nauseating guilt that plagued him by her presence.

He wondered fleetingly, as the nurse—who's name he still couldn't remember—left the room, if this was what Derek had felt like when he had stumbled upon Mark and Addison _in flagrante delicto_. If it was, then he couldn't blame his friend at all for taking the actions that he had; in fact, his reaction had been surprisingly graceful. Had it been Mark in his position, Derek probably would have had his face rearranged rather artfully.

Logically, he knew that he probably shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't be so hard on himself. He was allowed to notice other attractive women—God knew he'd been doing it for all his life, regardless of who he was with—without feeling this way, and yet, there the feeling was not simply one that he could will away.

He supposed it could be the grief talking. As a man who had always had a way with women and a voracious sexual appetite, his way of grieving the loss of the love of his life was by becoming completely adverse to the idea of sex with other women, something that was not going to serve him well in the long run. His body's needs, however, were not going to be concurrent with the needs of his mind, which would result in some unpleasantness later on. He'd gone through the same thing when Addison had left him, even though it had been him who had committed the indiscretion that made her leave. He hadn't realized at first how much he missed her and Derek, until they were both gone.

He'd been of half the mind to chase after her when she left, to beg her to come back to him, to give them one more shot, but hadn't, realizing that it would probably be better if he let it go, waited a few months before coming back to make his apologies. She'd be much more inclined to believe him if he came to her months after the fact, saying that he'd suffered for his sins and wanted to be forgiven. So he'd stayed in Manhattan, and pined for months before finally working up the nerve to come to Seattle.

That hadn't lasted forever, though. He'd only been able to go so long before his body had rebelled and he'd woken up in the arms of a beautiful woman.

This time, though, Mark wasn't sure things would be so simple. When Addison had left, he'd stayed away from women because every one reminded him of the reason she had left him in the first place. This time, there was no painful indiscretion associated with the loss of Lexie. She had simply _died_.

He wished Addison were here. Her presence didn't completely erase the agony of Lexie's departure, but having her there was like a balm, it lessened his suffering somewhat. Perhaps it was because he knew she understood, at least to a certain extent, what he was feeling. Neither he nor Derek had died, but between the two of them, they had both caused her a fair amount of heartache.

He wasn't ready to talk about anything yet, and she was probably the one person in the hospital who wouldn't make him feel like he had to. Everyone else who had come to visit him—with the exception of Carolyn—was associated with Lexie in some way, had known her on some personal level. Addison, on the other hand, had only met Lexie a few times, and never enough to know her very well. In fact, he got the distinct impression that his former lover had never been particularly fond of her at all. They'd be able to talk, or simply just sit in silence, without him being constantly reminded of the fact that the love of his life had been crushed under an airplane before they'd had the chance to ever have a future together.

All of this thinking had left him tired, and his sternum was still throbbing painfully from his feeble attempt to shift his position. Hoping that Addison would come to visit him soon, Mark closed his eyes and slipped into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


	9. Unpleasant Surprises

**I apologize that it took me so long to update! I had six pages or so written a while ago, and then school started and I really needed to update my other story, so this kind of fell to the wayside. This is a longer chapter to make up for it, though!**

**Also, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

* * *

The hospital lights were blinding. Addison tried her best not to squint as she made her way to the surgical patient wing. She was surprised that no one was giving her funny looks; to her, it seemed blatantly obvious that she was supremely hung over, but perhaps that was because she was experiencing it first-hand.

She'd taken a shower as soon as she'd gotten back to the Archfield, standing under the spray until the water ran from scalding hot to icy cold. She'd scrubbed herself until her skin was raw and pink like raw chicken, but no amount of cleaning could rid her of the sensation of griminess that accompanied a hangover. A few minutes were wasted contemplating her reflection—pale face, bloodshot eyes ringed with deep, bruise-like shadows, and all of it framed by limp, tangled, red locks—before she'd turned away, unable to look at it any longer.

Getting dressed—an endeavour that normally took at least a half hour—had barely taken more than a few minutes. Normally, her appearance was something that was carefully constructed every morning in a routine that took a couple of hours; it was something that she'd taken great pride in since she'd been a little girl and had over the years become a part of her reputation. When people heard her name, they expected her to appear looking immaculate. In light of recent events, however, her appearance had become something that she couldn't care less about. She'd grabbed the first clean clothes on top of her suitcase—which was still sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, fully packed—more preoccupied with getting to the hospital as quickly as she possibly could to relive last nights horrors with Derek and get his advice on what exactly she was supposed to do about the bloody mess she had landed herself in.

Thoughts of last night had caused icy tendrils of panic to creep out of the pit of Addison's stomach again. She hadn't even told _Derek_—who had become her closest confidante over the last few days—what had happened with Bizzy, or the fact that she was in love with Mark, and yet his wife and God-only-knew-who else knew about it. _Stay calm,_ she's told herself. _Derek's no stranger to getting himself into messes, especially messes concerning love. We'll be able to figure something out. _

She wouldn't have bothered with makeup if it hadn't been so necessary to make her look something akin to human. Covering the signs of last night's shenanigans had taken more time than the shower and dressing put together, but within an hour, she'd been hurrying down the road to the hospital, hoping that a walk in the crisp, damp air would help her to think.

It hadn't, but—coupled with the pair of aspirin she'd downed on her way out—had lessened the pounding headache, making her feel a little bit less miserable, so that now, as she arrived at Derek's room, she felt that she'd at least be able to make sensible conversation without feeling the desire to turn out all the lights and bury her head in her hands.

"Interesting evening, was it, Addie?" Derek, propped up in his bed, arm encased in a cast, grinned. He was doing markedly better, and was most likely going to regain full function of his hand. Callie had even hinted at the possibility of him being able to go home in a few days.

Apparently, being in a could-have-been-fatal plane crash and getting stranded in the woods for two days with a severe injury, suffering malnutrition and possibly losing all function in his hand hadn't damaged his ability to see through all the carefully constructed façades. Addison groaned, sinking into the chair beside Derek's bed and pushing her hair back from her face. "You don't know the half of it. Unless Meredith's already been by and enlightened you?"

He chuckled. "She came by a few minutes ago, looking definitely worse for wear, but she didn't say anything other than that she was pretty sure she'd drank more tequila last night than she has in the last three years. Which is a pretty impressive feat, even for her."

Addison chuckled, though secretly, she was incredibly relieved. Derek didn't know anything, which was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, she wanted to tell him herself and not have him finding out from another possibly more biased source—like his wife—but at the same time, it would have been nice not to have to voice all her misadventures out loud again. "Yeah, well, I think that's a statement that can apply to all of us."

Derek's eyebrows arched upwards. "Oh really?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes, in the hopes that they would stop aching. "Let's just say that I won't be drinking anything for a long time."

There was a pause. Derek was obviously waiting for more details about last night, having gotten none from Meredith and plenty of implication from Addison. One of the things he loved, when not partaking in drunken debauchery himself, was tales of drunken nights out on the town. It was one of the few reasons that he still went drinking with Mark; there were always great stories to tell afterwards. Not that Mark got drunk that often anymore. Middle age had a tendency to sap the party life out of you. Addison, on the other hand, wasn't so sure that she wanted to say anything. The overpowering need to confess to Derek exactly what she had done—or more importantly, what she had said—under the influence had evaporated somewhat now that the time had actually come to confess. It was so much nicer to just keep all these things to herself. It was better when nobody else knew about her inner turmoil.

She twisted her fingers together nervously in her lap, focusing all her attention on the way the digits wrapped around each other, knuckles white with tension. There were words buzzing around her brain like flies, chasing each other in dizzying circles. _I'm in love with Mark. I told a bunch of virtual strangers—including your wife—about what happened to my mom, something that half the people I work with don't even know about. I'm in love with Mark. Sam is coming here with my son, and I don't know what I'm going to do when he gets here. Sam loves me and wants to marry me, but I haven't said yes to his proposal yet—even though I've been badgering him about it for a while now—because I've become painfully aware yet again that I'm in love with Mark. Jake's in love with me too, and he and Sam don't exactly get along, but none of that matters because I'm in love with Mark. Lexie's dead, and Mark wants to die, and I'm terrified that he will because I don't know what I'll do without him. I'm in love with Mark. _She was going to go crazy if she didn't say something soon, but all the words were stuck in her throat and she couldn't make sense of her thoughts for long enough to actually come up with a coherent sentence. Which was going to very shortly become a problem because Sam was coming and Callie knew about Mark and would probably run into Sam at some point, and could—highly unlikely, but still possible—tell him about Mark. Which would have disastrous results. And even if Callie said nothing, there was still the fact that Addison was a mess, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and couldn't still be that way when Sam arrived, unless she wanted to find herself on the first plane back to L.A.

"You know, trying to turn your fingers into a pretzel is really going to do a number to your muscles. You wouldn't want to strain anything; it means you can't operate," Derek said seriously, startling Addison so much that she jumped a foot out of her chair, heart thumping in her chest like it might explode out of her ribcage. She smiled weakly, trying to pretend she wasn't a trembling, nervous wreck right now, and said, with as much seriousness as she could muster, "I've heard it helps prevent arthritis."

"Hm." He pretended to ponder this, as if she had just told him of a new method for treating aneurysms. "Well, I suppose you'll be operating for many years yet then."

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to make her feel at ease, to lessen the tension that was threatening to stifle them both, and she commended him for his effort. She really did. He was good at that: changing the topic, distracting you with something light and witty so you'd forget about the big horrible thing that was threatening to crush you flat under its weight, but she wasn't sure that was going to work this time. There was simply too much..._stuff_ inside. She felt like a volcano on the verge of eruption; before long everything was going to spew out of her whether she wanted it to or not, and when it did, it was going to be messy.

"It was awful," she blurted out suddenly, not able to keep silent any longer. "We all got so drunk, and we were playing this game where you had to try and prove that your life was worse than everyone else's and so I said all these things because I was drunk and I was trying to win and—" she broke off, gasping, realizing, to her great embarrassment, that she was on the verge of tears. Hastily, she looked away, rubbing her face in the hopes of removing any traces of tears, only to realize after the fact that she was ruining the carefully all that carefully applied makeup. The knowledge made her want to cry even more.

Derek's face was full of sympathy. "Slow down, Addie," he said gently, reaching out to rub her arm clumsily, the railing on the bed impeding his progress slightly.

Addison took a deep breath, trying very hard to not fall apart completely. "I just lost total control of myself, and all these things were just coming out of my mouth before I even realized...things that no one was ever supposed to know, least of all people like _Meredith_! No offense," she added hastily.  
"None taken. You and Meredith don't have the greatest track record."

"Yeah." She laughed shakily. "No kidding."

There was another long silence. Addison knew the onus was on her to talk, but she wasn't exactly sure how to say what needed to be said. They were delicate issues, especially when told to someone like Derek; he had known her mother after all, and had had no inkling to what Bizzy Forbes Montgomery had really been like, and he'd been on the receiving end of the warpath caused by her love for Mark. The revelation could easily shed new—and unfavourable—light on her affair, though the fact still remained that she had left Mark for Derek, no matter how much she had loved either of them. And she had loved both of them. It was just that she had loved Mark more.

"I'm in love with Mark."

The words came out as barely more than a whisper, and hung ominously over them for a moment.

"Ah." Derek's face was unreadable, which was infuriating. Addison wished he would have some kind of reaction, even if it were anger or disgust. Something was better than nothing.

More than anything, she wanted to know if this surprised him, or if it was something he had known all along. The three of them used to be great at figuring things out about each other before they had even figured it out themselves: she'd figured out that Derek was never going to love her because he was in love with Meredith long before he admitted it to himself; Derek had known things wouldn't work out between her and Mark before she had realized it was best to just give up; Mark had known the marriage between her and Derek was over long before the two of them realized it had even begun to fall apart. She wondered if that ability was still there, or if this piece of news had caught Derek completely off-guard.

She wished he would say something, give her some indication as to what this news meant to him because his silence was driving her crazy, and the last thing she needed right now was more things to make her crazy. She already had enough of them as it was. Had she been telling him this five years ago, she'd have known the reaction she was going to get: contempt, with faint lacings of anger and disgust. And bitterness. There'd be a lot of bitterness. Had she mentioned it a couple of years ago, she would have been met with relief that someone sensible had come along to end to legacy of Mark the Man-whore. Now, though, she wasn't sure. She knew that Derek and Mark had rekindled all of that old best-friend-brotherliness that they'd always had—not that she hadn't expected them to—but she and he had sort of...drifted. Their lives were moving in two separate directions, and they hadn't really kept in touch. She'd hoped when Amelia come out to L.A. that she'd be able to get more scoop about how the boys in Seattle were faring, but to say that Derek kept in touch with his sisters was stretching the truth by impossible means, and if he were hypothetically to call one of them once in a blue moon, Amy wouldn't be the lucky one. There had been brief contact a few months back when Charlotte and Cooper had taken Erica and Mason down to Seattle so that Derek could remove her tumour, but all she'd heard about him then was what he'd done in the OR. It seemed he and Amy hadn't wasted a lot of time getting caught up. Besides, Amy had been more interested in talking about Lexie—a topic that Addison had no real interest in pursuing—than making speculations about her brother's welfare. Sure, they may have rekindled their friendship in the last week, but not enough for her to be able to glean anything about how he might respond to this news. Mostly because she sharing this news with him wasn't an idea that had ever entered her head.

"And now Sam's coming. With Henry," she continued, wondering if elaborating upon the problem was going to get her some kind of response.

"Sam?" Derek repeated, as if he hadn't heard her properly. "Sam Bennett?"

"Yes," Addison said, attempting to conceal the frustration creeping into her voice. How many other Sams did they know? "Their flight gets in later today."

"Oh."

She really wanted to throttle him right about now. The lack of facial expression and monosyllabic answers were really not helping the situation. She'd come to him hoping to get some advice on how to sort out the mess that had become her life, and he couldn't even string together a complete sentence. Was it really that bad?

"And Lexie's dead, so..." Whatever words had been forming in her brain to vanish that sentence vanished, if ever they'd existed at all. The death of Lexie Grey was still something she didn't like thinking about, let alone discussing with someone as closely connected to it as Derek. Especially in light of recent confessions about her love for Mark. She didn't want him thinking that she was glad Lexie was dead. She wasn't. The death of Lexie had turned her life into a living hell that she had no idea how to get out of.

A flash of pain crossed Derek's face at the mention of Lexie's death, and Addison felt a pang of guilt for even bringing it up. She'd been more than just a resident to him; she was his sister-in-law. She'd lived in his house. Been the go-to babysitter whenever they wanted to go out. She'd had so much promise, so much potential, all of which had been robbed from her. And Derek—her teacher and her brother—suffered more than the rest as a result.

His grief couldn't be compared to Meredith or Thatcher or Mark's, but it was substantially more than anything Addison might be feeling—and most of what she was feeling was more related to Mark's reaction to Lexie's death than actually grief.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, wishing he would say something, instead of just sitting there—though it was really more like lying there; he only looked like he was sitting because his bed was elevated—with an expression of incurable agony on his face, like someone had just punched him in the gut. "I shouldn't have—I'm sorry."

She felt clumsy and awkward, which were two things she wasn't used to feeling ever. She was calm, cool, in control, always prepared and put together. Very few things fazed Addison Montgomery. Her life had always been slightly messy, especially when it came to men—there often seemed to be more than one man vying for her love, whether she wanted them there or not—and she was used to dealing with complicated affairs of the heart. She'd weathered many a break-up over the years, and had learned that broken hearts weren't actually as bad as some people made them out to be. In the last week, however, her life had been completely turned on its head, and the messes that she was normally so used to dealing with multiplied in size and heaped themselves on top of each other until she was drowning in a sea of chaos and disaster, the island of calm and in control nothing more than a speck in the distance.

"It's fine," Derek said, after taking a minute to pull himself back together. "It wasn't your fault."

Calm and collected Addison would have scoffed at this and stated plainly that it couldn't be her fault. She hadn't known Lexie at all, and had no control over the plane crashing. Drowning-in-disaster Addison was simply relieved that Derek didn't think that she had wanted Lexie to die.

"I know, I just...I want to be able to do something to help him. I hate sitting here not being able to do anything." She leaned back in the chair and expelled a deep breath, the feeling of drowning beginning to lessen. She wasn't foolish enough to think that it wouldn't be back with a vengeance, but at least she was treading water for now.

"I know. I hate it too," he said wearily, and she realized how hard all of this must be for him. He had lost his sister-in-law; almost lost his life; couldn't do anything to help his best friend grieve the loss of the love of his life; and might possibly lose the function of his hand and therefore his career.

The guilt began to lap at her in waves. She'd been so focused on her own mountain of problems that she hadn't bothered to think about anyone else's. Derek was drowning in problems too, and most of them were a lot more serious than hers. It made her feel shallow and self-centred.

She reached out and touched his arm, hoping to offer some comfort. "Your hand is going to get better, Derek. This isn't the end for you."

He smiled feebly. "Callie seems to be fairly confident that it will heal in time. So I should operate again sometime in the future." The implication in his words was clear: he'd operate again eventually, but depending on how long it took him to recover, his career might not be salvageable. Addison wished she had some sort of reassuring response that wouldn't seem fake or falsely cheerful, but reassurance wasn't really something that she could give out right now, not when she so desperately needed it herself.

"I take it there's something going on between you and Sam." Derek's voice broke the silence. "Otherwise he wouldn't be coming all the way out here, and even if he were, it wouldn't be such a big deal."

"He could just be coming out to see you and Mark. He's your friend too, you know," Addison protested feebly, parroting the words Sam had said to her on the phone.

Derek snorted. "Addie, I haven't spoken to Sam Bennett since he came up when Archer had his surgery, and I'm pretty sure Mark hasn't either. We're hardly what I'd call friends."

"Right. Well it could happen. I mean, he could be trying to rekindle your relationship." The words sounded feeble even to her ears.

"But he's not. So there's something going on between you two."

Addison pinched the near-skin-tight denim encasing her thigh, watching the material stretch with reluctance as she tugged. Things between her and Sam were...To be honest, she couldn't really come up with an appropriate adjective. Complicated didn't even begin to describe it. And to try and explain all of this to Derek would be a long, drawn-out endeavour. "He asked me to marry him," she said finally.

"Wow."

"I told him I needed to think about it," she continued, seeing the questioning look on his face. "Things were...complicated at that time." _Which is the understatement of the century._ "And then Richard called to tell me about Mark and things just...got more complicated."

Derek chuckled softly, as if laughing at some private joke. "No kidding." He paused for a moment, considering all this information, and then said, "When it comes to matters of the heart, Fate doesn't seem to want to make it easy for us, does it?"

Addison laughed. It came out breathily, almost like a gasp. "Yeah. We're like the Three Musketeers of romantic misfortune."

He grinned. "But by that same token, if you look at me, it means that everything will eventually work out for you and Mark. Fate won't give you a crappy hand forever."

"Try telling that to Mark."

Derek mouth twitched, but his face quickly became more serious. "Do you love him, Addie?"

She didn't need to ask whom he was talking about. "I do. But not as much as I'll ever love him."

Derek didn't need any clarification as to whom she was referring to. "Then you can't marry him. You can't do that to yourself again. Besides, Mark's going to need you, whether he wants to admit it or not."

"I know," she said quietly. She'd known it for a while now, she was just still trying to figure out how she was going to tell Sam that the answer to the question she had been hounding him to ask her for nearly a year was no. "It's just, well, I've been waiting for him to ask me for so long, but now..." Now the thought of spending her life with anyone other than Mark made her feel slightly queasy.

"It has to be done though," he said gently, and, looking at his face, she remembered that he had been in the exact same position six years ago when he had told her that it their marriage was over. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he knew that he couldn't stay with her when he was so in love with Meredith.

"Yeah," she mumbled, not wanting to think about it anymore. After a moment, she got up, collecting her purse from where she'd left it on the floor. "I should probably head out. Your mom will be here soon."

"He loved you, you know."

Derek's words stopped Addison in her tracks. She wanted to turn and face him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"He told me when you left. I didn't want to hear it at the time, but he was so broken that you left, that you broke that pact or whatever that you had, that he didn't really care. He never cheated on you, but he knew you did, and because he loved you, he was big enough to let you go. At the time, it was the most selfless thing he'd ever done. But he did love you."

Addie didn't know what to say. She'd been waiting to hear these words forever, and now...well, now knowing was almost worse. Now that she knew she could have had a chance with him, if only she'd been willing to stay, then she might not be in this position. She might be married to Mark, with a baby or two, or none, but at least the two of them would be together. The knowledge that she could have single-handedly screwed her only chance at happiness made her sick.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she walked away without saying anything.

* * *

They had given him lunch.

It was the first time he'd been able to eat solid food since the surgery. The nurse had brought it in on a plastic tray: a couple slices of toast, looking definitely worse-for-wear, and a cup of strawberry Jell-O. Mark wasn't sure why they'd bothered; it was no secret that hospital food was absolute crap, and Mark being a doctor knew without a doubt just how unappetizing it was. The Jell-O might have been edible—it was said to be pretty good, as far as hospital food went—had it not been strawberry, the same scent as Lexie's shampoo. Just smelling the sickly-sweet scent of the artificial strawberry flavouring made him sick with longing.

His stomach—traitorous organ that it was—rumbled, anxiously anticipating being fed. His mind, however, was sickened at the thought of eating anything, especially the Jell-O. Closing his eyes briefly, he pushed the tray further away, ignoring any protests from his stomach.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you aren't hungry. I mean I know hospital food isn't great, but one would think that anything is good to an empty stomach."

Mark looked up, startled, to see Addison leaning casually in the doorway, smiling. To an outsider, she appeared no different from her usual self: impeccably—albeit casually—dressed and made-up, hair out of the way, relaxed and in control. He, however—being someone who knew her much better than most—could see the subtle differences: her oversized, beige cashmere cardigan was one she only ever wore when she sick or upset—she said because it was so soft and warm; like a hug—the jeans were one of her "around the house" pairs, and therefore not normally worn in public; her ponytail wasn't perfectly sleek or centred, a sign that it had been done without a brush and mirror—she'd probably put it up just now—and every pore seemed to ooze exhaustion and hopelessness, accented by the bags under her eyes and unnatural pallor to her complexion. She'd become a master at pretending to be fine, though she had never been able to fool him or Derek.

He didn't want to answer her question. His resolution to talk to her and seek advice about how to deal with this all-consuming grief hadn't wavered, but it wasn't necessarily something that he wanted to delve right into now. All he wanted right now was to stop thinking about Lexie. He needed a distraction, and Addison had proved to be an excellent one. If he made the conversation entirely about her, though, she'd be suspicious. He'd have to do it subtly.

"Well, you hungry?" he asked, managing a small smile, a shadow of its former glory.

She frowned slightly, though the way her green eyes narrowed in on the tray contemplatively told him that she was seriously considering it. "I'm not the one who needs nourishment. You just had _major surgery_, Mark. You have to take care of yourself." There was a hint of panic in her voice, further betraying the image of calm and cool she was so desperately trying to project. Was she afraid he was going to die on her? He wasn't sure, but he knew her well enough to know that there was something going on.

"Which is exactly why I shouldn't be eating this," he argued. "You know as well as I do that hospital food is about as far from nutritious as you can get."

Addison bit the inside of her lip gently, a nervous habit he had picked up on a couple months after they met by noticing that her bottom lip sucked in slightly every time she was stressed. She was obviously seriously considering his words, but wasn't seeing an alternative way to get food into him. "You can't go without eating."

"I won't," he replied calmly, though she didn't look particularly convinced. There were advantages and disadvantages to knowing each other so well. Sure, he knew exactly how to play her to get what he wanted, but she knew when he was playing her. It often came down to whose will was stronger. Addison normally lost. "Look, if it's that big a deal to you, you can get me something from the cafeteria. I'll eat it. I promise." He glanced at her, face full of sincerity—though he wasn't entirely sure it was genuine yet—and he could see her reserve faltering.

"All right," she conceded, crossing the room and drawing up a chair at his bedside, a sure sign that the debate was over. "I'll go and get you some chicken soup later, okay?"

_Perfect_. Chicken soup was something Mark only ever ate when he was sick—which wasn't something that happened very often. It was a food that was not in any way Lexie-associated, and it wouldn't be too heavy on his stomach, either. "Deal."

Satisfied, Addison reached for the tray, pulling it onto her lap. "You're right, you know," she said, contemplating the toast slices, saturated with butter to the point of sogginess. "This is really disgusting."

"Well, one would think anything is good on an empty stomach," he replied cheekily, using her words against her.

She snorted. "Ha ha. I'm not that hungry, but it's a shame to see this food go to waste."

"Don't kid yourself, Addie. You and I both know that's not food. No sane person would want to eat this."

"Hundreds of patients eat this stuff every day. Some of them even love it." As if to demonstrate her point, Addison took a bite out of a toast slice. Mark tried not to chuckle as he watched her valiant attempt to disguise a grimace.

"Yeah, and I guess you're one of those people?" he teased.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, so maybe it's not so great. The point is that you need to eat. And me eating your breakfast is not going to accomplish anything."

"I can survive a few more hours without any food," he replied, wishing that they could move on to something else. All this talk of food was making him ill. "Besides, I'm not even hungry."

Judging by the expression on her face, Addison didn't believe him at all, but she seemed willing to let it slide for his sake. "I say Teddy in the hallway. She told me that you're looking much better. In fact, she thinks you'll probably be able to go home in a week or so."

Just the thought of being home made Mark sick. His apartment was empty, a place were Lexie's ghost was everywhere, haunting him like an unwanted shadow. He'd go crazy if he had to spend day after day alone there. He could feel his chest constricting, as if someone was squeezing his heart in their fist. The sick feeling in his gut—begun by the plastic bowl full of Jell-O cubes—intensified, and he found himself yet again fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. It was too much. This was too much. If this was what it was always going to be like, then he didn't want to live, regardless of what Lexie might have wanted.

Was this what it had been like for Derek when Meredith drowned? Mark couldn't help but wonder. He'd seen his best friend at the time, sat with him in the hall and watched the man who was basically his brother fall to pieces, but they had never really talked about it. The drowning just wasn't something that ever got mentioned. He didn't even think Meredith and Derek talked about it.

"Mark?"

Addison reached forward and took his hand gently. Her fingers were soft, warm, and delightfully familiar; he couldn't help remarking the way their hands just seemed to fit together.

"I'm sorry," she said gently; thumb stroking the back of his hand absentmindedly. It was something she used to do all the time when she held his or Derek's hand; she didn't even seem to be aware of doing it. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Mark wanted to tell her it was fine, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat. She shouldn't have to feel guilty about saying things like that; she knew that he hated having to stay in the hospital and would probably be anxious to get out. And under any other circumstances, he would be. "I—" He tried to push the words out, but they wouldn't come.

"It's okay." She smiled, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "We'll just talk about something else, okay? You don't have to worry about it anymore."

He nodded, numbly, exceedingly grateful for her ability to understand what he couldn't say.

"Sam's coming down for a visit," Addison continued. Her light, conversational tone seemed slightly strained, and her smile didn't reach her eyes. Something was going on between her and Sam.

"Why?" Mark asked hoarsely. He didn't mean to be rude, but he couldn't understand why Sam Bennett would want to visit now. The last time he'd been in Seattle was when Archer had had his surgery; it wasn't like he and Derek and Mark were particularly close anymore.

Addison sighed, trying to smother her smile. "What is it with you two? Derek said the same thing when I told him."

A few months ago, this statement might have surprised Mark. It seemed, however, that since the accident, they had rekindled their old friendship. They all had. "Because it's the truth. I mean, come on, Addie. Sam and I haven't spoken in three years. Don't tell me he's gotten a sudden urge to come and say hi."

She blushed, free hand fiddling with the hem of her cardigan—further proof that something was up with her and Sam. "He _is_ worried about you," she mumbled.

Mark coughed, pain flaring through his chest. "For old times' sake, maybe. I'm fine," he added, seeing Addison's concern as he tried to suppress further coughs. "He's not worried enough about us to fly all the way out here."

"I—"

"Addie?"

Both of them started: Addison jumping like she'd been shocked, and Mark moving just enough to cause his chest to ache again. Sam was standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. His hand was resting lightly on the handle of a stroller, a sight that made Mark's heart clench. _Were they—?_

"Sam." Addison's voice was strangled and almost panicked-sounding. "You're here."

Sam frowned slightly "Yeah. The flight got in early. Are you all right?"

She nodded, a little too quickly, managing a weak smile. Mark found himself wondering if Sam picked up on it the way he did. "You should have called me," she scolded, disentangling fingers from Mark's and getting to her feet. "I said I'd come and meet you."

Had he been his normal, obnoxious, ass-like self, Mark would have made a comment about her lack of vehicle, but the unpleasant surprise of Sam's arrival kept him silent. He wanted Addison to be happy, but the thought of her being taken bothered him immensely.

Sam shrugged. "It's fine. We stopped at the Archfield before heading over."

"Oh." There was a brief silence, in which Addison fiddled non-stop with the hem of her cardigan. She was a mess. "How's Henry?"

"He seems fine." Sam glanced at the occupant of the stroller fondly, and Mark's gut twisted uncomfortably. "He was great on the flight up."

Addison smiled, the first real smile Mark had seen since Sam arrived, crossing the room to the stroller. "Of course he was, isn't that right buddy? You're just such a good boy."

Mark closed his eyes briefly, hoping that this feeling would pass. It wasn't nearly as bad as the pain that accompanied memories of Lexie or reminders of her death, but it wasn't something he had expected to be feeling either. Lexie was the love of his life. There wasn't anyone else. So he shouldn't be feeling anything towards Sam. He shouldn't begrudge Addison her happiness.

Still, that stroller unsettled him. The baby was obviously hers. _Hers and Sam's? _It didn't make any sense to him. He knew that Addison had always dreamed of having kids, but the last time he remembered hearing about it, she was screaming about how she was thirty-nine and only had one egg left, so it seemed like her having a baby was highly unlikely. There was no denying the presence of the stroller, though.

"Mark?"

He opened his eyes slowly, hoping that this had all been some bizarre, morphine-addled kink of his brain. Addison was headed back towards the bed—albeit much slowly and more carefully than before—a bundle of blankets nestled in her arms. As he got closer, he could see a face peeping out of the bundle: small, round, pink, and peacefully asleep. He was beautiful, and looking at him made Mark slightly sick. A small voice whispered in the back of his head, _He could have been yours._ He tried very hard to ignore it. Those were memories he tended not to revisit.

"This is my son, Henry," Addison said gently, gazing at the small bundle in her arms with absolute adoration.

Mark closed his eyes again, hoping that when he opened them, everyone would be gone.

* * *

**Don't forget to review! :)**


	10. Drowning

**So given what happened in the premiere, this story is now sort of an AU...which makes me very sad. Mark was one of my favourite characters on the show, and, while I totally respect Eric Dane's decision to leave the show, I'm going to really miss Mark. **

**Sorry for the wait between updates, the last bit of this took a little longer to figure out than I expected. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Happy reading :)**

* * *

"She's got a baby, Cal."

Mark was still having a hard time believing the words coming out of his mouth. Addison had a _baby_. And there was definitely something going on between her and Sam; by the looks of it, they were _parenting. _Together.

Callie sighed, brushing a few stray curls from her face. "She's allowed to be happy, Mark. She's wanted a baby for so long, and now that she finally has one...Well, you should be happy for her. That's all."

Mark shook his head. "But he's not even her baby. He's adopted. That's not what she wanted."

"She wanted a baby," she replied impatiently. "How she got the baby doesn't matter. Meredith and Derek adopted Zola. Does that make her any less their child? Does it make them love her less?"

"No," he mumbled, feeling chastised. That wasn't the at all what he was trying to say, but the words all seemed to be coming out wrong. It seemed the disastrous meeting with Addison and Henry and Sam had left him shaken.

"Then why should it matter with Addie? She loves Henry; that's what matters."

This conversation was not at all going the way Mark had wanted it to. He'd hoped Callie would be more understanding, that she'd take his side instead of choosing Addison's. She was _his _best friend. Sure, she and Addison had been best friends when before the latter's departure to L.A., but since then, she'd become his best friend, and he was pretty damn sure she knew him better than she knew Addison. Just because there was a baby involved didn't mean she had to automatically defend him. Could she not see how hard this was on him, how much it was killing him to see Addison with this baby, to see how happy she was, and know that he could have had a part of that happiness too? He loved Sofia, and he wouldn't give her up for the world, but the knowledge that he could have had so much more had he not been such a dickbrain—literally—was painful. He could have experienced the anticipation of his firstborn child without the girlfriend of his child's mother butting in on everything and getting excited about the baby like it was hers—which he had grudgingly come to admit it was.

He hadn't thought about Addison's abortion in years. He'd been furious at the time; even though he'd had no real idea of what parenthood would entail at the time and no sense of fidelity, he'd wanted to have a family. Being a dad was one of those things he'd always dreamed about, and to know that he and Addison could have had that made him sick to his stomach. With the passage of time, the memories had faded away, replaced with memories of Lexie and parenting and life, but now that Addison was back, with a baby in tow, experiencing the joy of parenting for the first time, it was all coming back to him. And he really didn't want to deal with it right now. Lexie's death was more than enough for one person to have to handle.

"I thought you'd be happy to see Sam." Sensing the underlying tension, Callie had the good sense to change the subject, though Mark wasn't so sure that she had enough sense to realize that anything Addison-related was taboo right now. Unless she had an ulterior motive to torture him, that was.

She was definitely looking for something. Having known Callie as long as he had, he knew when she was trying to wheedle information out of people. What it was she was looking for, he had no idea, but something had changed since the last time they had talked. She knew something now that she hadn't before.

"How do you know I'm not?" he replied, more defensively than intended. She was right: he wasn't really pleased to see Sam—at least not as pleased as he normally would have been—now that he understood the extent of Sam's involvement in Addison's life. He'd never really been Mark's friend anyways; he was Derek's friend and the boyfriend/husband of Addison's best friend, and had sort of become part of the group by default. He and Mark had never really had much in common, and he knew there was no way in hell that Sam had flown all the way out here to see him or even Derek. And while he was glad that _someone_ was here to look out for Addison—since she obviously wasn't doing it herself—he wasn't so happy that someone was Sam Bennett.

Callie rolled her eyes. "Addison told me all about your disastrous meeting with Sam and Henry. I don't think you could have expressed a greater lack of happiness at the arrival of your friend."

"He's not really my friend," Mark retorted, shifting in an attempt to get himself into a less painful position. "He was Derek's friend. And he'd Addie's..." He didn't know what to finish that sentence with because he and no idea what the nature of Sam and Addison's relationship was. He didn't want to say boyfriend, because he didn't think that was the case, but friend seemed like too light a word.

"Fiancé. Well, unofficially. I mean, it's not like she's said yes yet or anything," Callie said glibly, examining her nails as if this was the most boring piece of information in the world.

Mark had no idea what to think, let alone any idea what to say in response. Addison and Sam were _engaged?_ As in going to get married sometime in the near future? How could that be happening? Sam was Addison's best friend's ex-husband, a man who didn't have the greatest track record when it came to fidelity—though Addison couldn't really boast a brilliant one either. She didn't deserve this. She deserved better.

_Why do you care so much?_ His subconscious prodded. _It's not like you care about her anyways. She deserves to happy. Isn't that what Callie said? _

_Yeah, well _he's_ not the one who's going to make her happy,_ he retorted. _She doesn't need another guy to go and cheat on her. She deserves someone who's going to stay with her forever, who's going to worship her the way she deserves to be. And Sam Bennett is not that guy._

"Mark?"

Yanked from his thoughts, Mark glanced up to see Callie looking at him expectantly. It was obvious she had asked him a question, and was waiting for an answer, which he couldn't give her because he had no idea what she'd been saying. "What?"

Callie took a deep breath, seemingly resisting the urge to snap at him. "I asked if you were okay. I mean, I told you about Addie and Sam and then you just...is there something I should know?"

_Like what?_ There wasn't anything to be said. He didn't think that Sam deserved to be with Addison, but he wasn't the one responsible for that decision. It was hers to make, and hers alone. Besides, he shouldn't even care. Not this much at least. The grief must be getting to him. "It's fine, Cal. If she's happy with him, then I'm happy for her."

"You don't seem too happy," she replied dryly.

"Well forgive me if I'm not able to jump for joy right now," he snapped back, suddenly frustrated with all this constant poking and prodding. Callie and Addison and Teddy and Amelia and Carolyn had all been worrying about him and hovering and asking him constant questions about his health and expecting him to be a normal, functioning person, and he just wanted them to stop. Normal wasn't something he could be right now. He needed time to grieve, to come to terms with what had happened. He didn't have the energy to be overly happy for Addison right now. He and Lexie should have been getting married soon, so he wasn't really in the mood to be jumping for joy at someone else's marriage announcement.

Callie's face was full of pity and sympathy, which only made things worse. Sympathy was not something that he wanted right now. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Oh my God, Mark, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize—" Callie stammered, looking at him like she expected him to crash at any second.

"It's fine," he said curtly, not wanting to start talking about Lexie again. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm sorry."

"No it's fine..." Callie glanced around wildly, looking for something to come in and save her. "Look, I've got to go and check on Derek. I'll stop by with Sofia later, okay?"

"Okay," Mark mumbled as she rose from her chair and hastily made her exit. As relieved as he was that she wasn't going to be here prying anymore, he didn't really like the prospect of being alone. In an ideal situation, Addison would be popping in again soon to bring him that chicken soup she'd promised him and he'd be able to entice her to stay and chat for a while, but now that Henry was here to occupy all her time, he was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen. With a resigned sigh, he reached over to adjust the morphine flow and closed his eyes.

_ She was sitting on the floor of his apartment, sorting through an alarmingly large stack of Christmas cards. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him made her look up, and though she looked pleased to see him, she was also surprised, as if she hadn't thought he'd be coming back._

_ "You shouldn't be here."_

_ Mark sighed. He didn't want her to be on his case too. He wasn't here to be nagged. "Lex-"_

_ "I'm serious, Mark. You can't do this. I can't be the one you come to anymore. You have to move on," she said firmly, turning her attention back to the stack of cards on the floor, sorting them as if he wasn't even there. It made him want to hit something. She wasn't supposed to do this. This was supposed to be the one place where everything was fine; where no one was trying to push or pull him in the direction they wanted him to go. She loved him, and she was never going to get to be with him again. Surely that was enough to make her want to spend all the time with him she could get. Even if she was a bi-product of his imagination—especially if she was a bi-product of his imagination. _

_ "Don't start, Lexie," he growled. "I'm not here for another lecture on what I should be doing with my life."_

_ Lexie sighed. "Well, maybe if you were actually _doing_ something with your life, then no one would feel the need to be "lecturing" you all the time."_

_ He hated her patronizing tone. She was treating him like he was some child that refused to behave, or a patient who wasn't taking care of themselves properly. He was getting better. Heart surgery was a complicated thing, and the recovery period was normally long, though the exact length varied between patients. God knows it had taken Derek nearly two months to get back to a facsimile of his old self, and even then, he'd had to take it easy. This wasn't just going to fix itself overnight, and as the damn gifted surgeon that she was, Lexie should know that. _

_ "What am I supposed to be doing?" he asked curtly, sinking down onto the couch and glaring at her. "It's not like I can get up and go to work every morning. I just had heart surgery."_

_ Her back was still to him, but he could have sworn she rolled her eyes. "I'm not talking physically, Mark. I'm talking mentally. Emotionally. You're not letting go."_

_ "I ALMOST FUCKING DIED!" Mark roared, unable to keep a lid on his anger anymore. There had simply been too much crap dumped on him over the course of the last couple of days for him to keep everything in any longer. "AND YOU DID! YOU DIED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, LEX!"_

_There was a long silence, his words filling the void until they were nearly stifling. He couldn't stop the memories that began to resurface in the wake of his blow-up: Lexie, body almost completely covered by the wrecked remains of the plane, blood streaking her face, vivid against her chalky skin; the gurgling rasp of each breath she took; the way her hand trembled within his own; and then her body lying there, unnaturally still, hand cold in his own. He could feel the burn of tears behind his eyes, coupled with the raw agony of the loss stabbing his heart like a knife, over and over again. _

_Finally, Lexie turned around, letting the card in her hand fall to the floor. Her face was full of pain and love; brown eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight made him realize he wasn't the only one living in his own personal hell; Lexie was suffering too, only no one could see it because she was dead. The knowledge made him want to hold her until all her pain was gone. She shouldn't have to suffer. If he had to suffer the agony for both of them for the rest of his life he would, if only to spare her the pain. _

_"There wasn't anything you could have done. You couldn't save me. None of you could have saved me. And I know you feel like you got cheated," she continued as he opened his mouth to protest, "but do you really think it would have been any easier if we'd been together? If we'd been engaged? Newlyweds? If we'd had children?"_

_He didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought of it that way before. The knowledge that they could have had more time, and the feeling that they had been robbed of time had been all he could think about when he thought of Lexie since she had died. He'd never even stopped to consider what things would have been like if they'd actually been together. He kept telling himself that it would have been easier if they'd had more time, even a few more months to spend together, but was that really true? What if they'd been engaged, getting ready to plan a big fancy wedding? Or just married and dreaming of a house and kids? Or having just celebrated the birth of their first child? _

_"Lexie," he whispered hoarsely. He didn't want to think about all the possible scenarios that could have unfolded if they'd never broken up in the first place, nor what it would have been like to lose her if any of those scenarios had taken place. _

_"I know what happened is awful," she murmured, coming to sit next to him, "and I know it seems like you'll never be able to get over it, but it could have been so much worse." She sighed, twisting her fingers together, reminding him so much of Meredith that his heart ached. He missed her more than anything, even though she was right in front of him. "We had the time that we did, Mark. And though we may not have used it all the way we wanted to, though we may have been incredibly stupid sometimes, at least we got time together. And as hard as it is to think of all the wonderful things that could have happened, the beautiful, full life we could have had together, I think it would be harder to be halfway there and have it all ripped away."_

_He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just pulled her into his arms and held her. She may not have been real; she may be constantly trying to push him back to the hellish world he was trying to escape—where everyone was moving on and leaving him behind—but she was here, and real or not, this was the closest to her he was ever going to get, and he'd be damned if he'd waste a single second of it. _

_After a long moment, she lifted her head from his shoulder, arms snaking away from his torso. There was a shy smile on her face; it seemed that she had given up on the notion of pushing him back to reality for now. "I've still got a huge stack of Christmas cards to sort through," she said softly. "Want to give me a hand?"_

_Mark grinned, pressing a quick kiss on the top of her head. "There's nothing I'd love more."_

* * *

"Are you sure you're not hungry?"

From where he sat across the table in the cafeteria, Sam's face conveyed nothing but worry. He seemed to have this idea in his head that Addison was abusing herself, and was therefore far more attentive than he ever needed to be, which was driving her crazy. She was a grown woman. She could look after herself.

"I ate earlier," she replied calmly, which was technically true. She'd had a few bites of Mark's toast around one, though any self-respecting doctor knew that stuff wasn't edible, let alone any proper source of nourishment. Since she wasn't at all interested in eating the sad little cafeteria salad Sam had bought her and was more than few up with his overly concerned questions, however, she kept this information to herself. "You can have it," she added. The way he'd been not so subtly eyeing the untouched plate for the last ten minutes had not escaped her notice.

"If you're sure..."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. "I'm sure." She didn't understand why he was so worried. It wasn't like she'd suggested they go and grab a really late lunch/early dinner, or expressed any desire to eat something. He was the one who had dragged her here, despite her protests that the cafeteria—even in the late afternoon—wasn't a good place for a sleeping baby, though Henry had so far remained fast asleep in her arms.

"So Derek seems to be doing pretty well," Sam said conversationally, sliding the salad across the table so that it sat in front of him. "He told me they think he an go home in a few days."

"Really?" Addison feigned surprise at the news she'd heard from Callie that morning. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with Henry for a while and have Sam out of her hair, but she didn't want to be rude either. After all, he was still under the impression that there was something between them. He was completely clueless to the latest developments in Addie's unnecessarily complicated love life. "That's great news."

"Yeah, it is. He's probably dying to get home and get back to his normal routine." The casual way with which he said this made her feel sick. There was no getting back to a normal routine. He had just lost one of his family members, not only a member of the work family, but of his real family as well. Nothing was ever going to be the same.

"Which means we won't need to stay here for much longer, either."

It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on her head. She couldn't have heard him properly. "What?"

"Everyone's doing fine here. It's time we went home, Addie. We have lives to live, too," Sam said gently. "This isn't your life anymore."

"No."

"Addie—"

"Not right now, Sam," she said, trying to fight the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. _This wasn't her life anymore?_ What was happening here mattered to her more than anything in her "real" life. "They're my best friends, Sam."

"And they're doing fine without you. They've got other people," Sam replied patiently.

"The love of Mark's life just_ died_. He needs people right now." Addison tried desperately to keep her cool. A meltdown was the last thing she needed right now, and a shouting match would only reinforce Sam's conviction that they should head home.

From the expression on Sam's face, it was obvious that he thought she was making a big deal about nothing. "He's got tons of people, Addie. Callie and Derek and Meredith—"

"—but they've all got people to worry about! Meredith has Derek and Zola, Callie has Sofia and Arizona, Jackson has patients; there's nobody but me!" she cried desperate to make Sam understand without having to spell it out for him: she loved Mark too much to leave him alone, and the fear that he would die had her paralyzed enough to keep her here, love or no love—though she was pretty sure the love was the reason for the paralyzing fear. She couldn't leave him now. In fact, she wasn't sure that she could ever leave him.

"Addison," Sam began, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by Henry's wails. Their arguing had disturbed his nap, and he wasn't much pleased about it.

"We'll talk about this later," she muttered, adjusting her grip on Henry and fleeing.

The hospital was a busy place, and quiet spots to soothe a cranky baby were hard to find. By some small miracle, Mark was asleep when she passed by his room, lost in a morphine-induced slumber that would allow him to sleep through World War Three. Henry's crying wouldn't wake him at all, and they'd be guaranteed some peace. Evening rounds weren't for another few hours, but which time Henry would hopefully be asleep.

"Hey," she murmured, resting her son against her shoulder and bouncing him gently. "Hey, you're okay, baby. It's okay. Mommy's got you. It's okay."

Henry's wails persisted despite her soothing words, which wasn't really a surprise. While he was for the most part an exceptionally behaved baby, when he cried, he really cried. And Addison—having gotten over the panic of the first time—knew it was better just to let him cry. The only thing that seemed to help was talking to him, but even that wasn't an instantaneous cure.

"I'm sorry we woke you, baby. Mommy and Sam were just having a bit of a disagreement," she said softly, pacing circles around Mark's bed, rocking Henry while she moved. She felt vaguely guilty for simply calling Sam by his first name, but she had no idea how much longer he would be a part of her life, and she didn't want Henry to get confused. Not that it would make much difference to a three-month-old. "He thinks we should go back home soon," she continued, rubbing Henry's back with her free hand, "but Mommy thinks it's better if we stay for a little while. You just got here, after all, and Uncle Mark isn't doing so good." She wished she could refer to Mark as Daddy, but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. Nothing was probably ever going to come of this unrequited love of hers. Especially not after Lexie. "He needs people to be here for him now, Henry, so you and I are going to stay here for a little bit and make him feel better, okay?"

Henry's cries slowly began to subside, but Addison wasn't finished. This is the first time she's been able to really unburden herself on someone who will listen and say nothing to her when she is finished, have no judgements or opinions, simply because he is too young to understand what is being said. "He could have been your Daddy, sweetheart. He and Mommy were in love once, and we both made some mistakes, and Mommy lost him. He'd make a great Daddy for you, though, and you'd have a little sister to play with, and a real family to take care of you."

Saying the words out loud makes her realize the extent what she's missing. If she had never had the abortion, if she had attempted to have a little faith that Mark might change his ways because he now had a family to take care of, she wouldn't be in this mess. They'd be married, and they'd have a couple of kids. She would be terrified all the time that Mark was going to let himself die, and he wouldn't be suffering so much. She wouldn't be able to spend so much time at the hospital; there would be kids to think of and take care of. She'd be able to take care of Zola and Sofia while Callie and Meredith were busy treating others and being treated, and when she needed some time to spend with her husband, Carolyn would be there to watch over the kids. Everyone would be sad that Lexie was dead, but she wouldn't be losing hours of sleep every night over whether or not Mark was going to be around the next morning. He would be motivated to recover so that he could spend more time with his family and get back to his job. He'd be there to comfort Meredith and Derek, to help them through their grief instead of experiencing it a hundred times worse. She'd be able to kiss him and tell him that she loved him, and how glad she was that he was alive.

Addison had never hated herself so much in her life. She had basically single-handedly engineered her own misery. Sure, Mark's indiscretions hadn't helped the situation, but if this could all have been prevented, if she'd been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially when he came to Seattle. When he cheated on her in New York, it was understandable that she would run so soon after losing her husband to the same act. But when he was in Seattle, there hadn't been anything stopping them other than her refusal to believe that he could change.

The only thing she didn't regret was Henry. If she had never made the choices she made, she never would have ended up with the beautiful boy that she had, and that was something she couldn't regret. She may have wasted the better part of ten years denying herself the life she had always dreamed of, but she had done one thing right in moving to L.A., and with that in mind, she was going to move forward. The move to L.A. had given her a chance to mature, to do things for herself and not for anyone else, and had given her a chance at the family she could have had and never got. The plane crash had been a wake-up call; it was time to stop pretending that she could get on happily with some other man.

It didn't matter that Sam wanted to go back to L.A. He could go, for all she cared. Addison was staying here. She was going to be here for Mark, because she'd be damned if he let himself go because he thought there was no one who cared about him. She cared about him, and, while that may not be enough for him, it was enough to keep her fighting.

With a resigned sigh, Addison adjusted her grip on Henry and settled into the chair by Mark's bedside, content just to sit here for a while and watch her boys sleep.

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**Please leave a review! They make my day! :)**


	11. Confessions

**So sorry it took so long to post this update! School is harder than anticipated this year, and I have a pretty hefty workload, which means finding time to work on updates is harder. My other stories are winding down soon however, which means that I'll have a lot more time to focus on this story in the future. **

**Just a quick note: since this story was started before S9 aired, it's not exactly going to follow the same plotline that the show took, especially the days in the aftermath of the crash. I have an outline for this story that I like, and I'm going to stick with it.**

**Also, huge thanks to all my reviewers! You guys are amazing! :D**

* * *

In all her time working at Seattle Grace, the day-care centre was never really a place Addison had visited, never having any children of her own. Sitting here in the squashy, brightly coloured beanbag chairs with Meredith and Carolyn, she felt like she had been transported into another world, where everything was happy and okay and none of this had ever happened.

She'd left Mark's room a little while ago. Henry had woken up, and Carolyn had stopped by with Sofia to see if Mark was awake. Upon discovering him asleep, she had convinced Addison to come along to the day-care with her. Addie was pretty sure the presence of Henry had something to do with the older woman's insistence—she'd been absolutely enthralled with her adorable as-good-as-grandson—but the distraction was a welcome one. Besides, if she planned on staying in Seattle—which was an idea she hadn't totally discounted yet—then it would be a good idea to heck out the day-care here. Assuming Hunt would give her back her job—though from what she'd heard, neo-natal hadn't done so well since her departure to L.A.

"Doctors should come up here more often," Addison remarked, watching Zola and Sofia on the floor, attempting to stack large, multicoloured plastic blocks. "It's really therapeutic."

"I know," Meredith said with a small, fond smile at her daughter. "Derek and I come up here all the time at lunch."

"And I'm sure it's lovely that Zola and Sofia are such good friends," Carolyn added. "They remind me of Mark and Derek, only younger."

There was a long, tense silence at the mention of Mark's name. Nobody could really talk about him without someone thinking about Lexie; it was like they're names were permanently entwined. Addison could feel the therapeutic effects of the day-care quickly beginning to wear off, and she could tell from the tense, closed expression on Meredith's face that she was feeling something similar. The thought or mention of anything Lexie-related was taboo with everyone at Seattle Grace, but particularly around Meredith and Mark. They were the two who were hit the hardest by the loss of the promising young neurosurgeon, though the former seemed to be dealing with her grief much better than the latter. Addison, however, knew better than anyone that things were not always what they seemed; she'd broached the subject once with Derek a few days ago, and he had mentioned that Meredith's standard M.O. in times of crisis was to be a rock of support for everyone else, while internalizing all her own pain.

"Apparently, I'm in charge of Lexie's funeral." Meredith was the one who finally broke the silence, keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on her lap.

This announcement genuinely took Addison by surprise. Sure, Lexie had been Meredith's stepsister and housemate, and, from what she understood, the two had been relatively close for the last few years, but they had met each other late in the deceased's life, and Addison would have thought that Lexie's father and sister would have had more interest in the preparations for her funeral.

"Molly lives at Fort Rucker with her husband, so she can't really do much, and Thatcher...well, he's drunk all the time, so I don't see how he'll be of much help, either," she continued bitterly, picking listlessly at the leg of her jeans, as if they were responsible for all of this.

"My dear, I'm sorry," Carolyn said gently, taking Meredith's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "If you need any help with anything, just let me know. I'd be more than happy to lend a hand in any way I can."

"I can help too," Addison heard herself saying. It wasn't fair to pile all of this on Meredith, not when she had so many other things to deal with, and besides, Addison couldn't help but feeling that this was something Mark would have wanted to be involved in, and, since he couldn't, the least she could do was get involved in his stead. She also had some experience planning funerals, having been in charge of her mother's not too long ago, and got the distinct impression that Meredith had none.

Meredith looked genuinely surprised at their offers. This was obviously something she'd expected to have to handle on her own. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Not a problem, Meredith. " Carolyn smiled sadly. "I know how difficult it can be to have to deal with these things."

"Me too," Addison whispered, thinking of the long days and weeks following her mother's suicide, a time that she wouldn't have been able to get through without the support of her family and friends. Trying to imagine coping with all of that entirely on her own was, well, unimaginable.

There was a brief, tense silence, before Meredith began to speak again.

"It was awful. When he came to see her...He just—well, honestly, it was like when Susan died, only worse. Susan was his wife," she added, seeing the confusion on both Carolyn and Addison's faces. "She came in here with a case of the hiccups. There were complications with the procedure, and... It was a minor procedure with a 99% success rate, and she died. Thatcher never forgave me for it." She sighed heavily, gaze fixed once again on her jeans, fingers picking at the fabric restlessly. Addison felt a stab of pity. She and Meredith had never really liked each other—How could they? —but as she began to realize how truly hard a time the other woman had had, she couldn't help but start to like her a little more—or at the very least admire her. To be so strong, so caring, after everything that had happened, to sill be married and have a daughter despite the highly dysfunctional family relations she had experienced as a child was amazing. Addison wasn't quite sure she could be so strong. "He kept yelling and saying that I'd killed her, that it should have been me who was killed instead of her, that it wasn't fair, and then he started to cry, and..." She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Addison felt the overwhelming urge to hug Meredith, but couldn't because her arms were full of Henry. Carolyn looked stricken.

"Oh honey," she said quietly, reaching over and pulling the younger woman into her arms. Meredith, to Addison's surprise, didn't push her away, but instead melted into her mother-in-law's embrace, a few silent tears running down her cheeks.

"Anyway," Meredith said briskly, pulling herself together, "how's Mark doing?"

"What?" Addison was thrown off-guard a little by the question. After such deep, personal revelations by Meredith, Mark had completely slipped her mind. It was, she realized, probably the first time that had happened since the crash.

"Mark," Meredith repeated, tone falsely calm, as if she were trying to pretend the last ten minutes hadn't happened. "How's he been holding up?"

"Uh, fine, I think." While Mark was doing pretty well physically, Addison wasn't so sure that he was one hundred percent healthy mentally. The loss of Lexie had hit him pretty hard, though she wasn't sure she wanted to confide in Meredith about that yet. Things may very well resolve themselves in a few days. He was allowed some time to grieve. "He sleeps a lot, but apparently that's normal after something like this. He'll probably be another week here at the most before he can go home."

Meredith frowned slightly. "Well, I don't want him to miss Lexie's funeral..."

"I'm sure Mark could leave the hospital for a few hours if he was in a wheelchair, couldn't he, Addie?" Carolyn asked helpfully.

Addison sighed. Lexie's funeral wasn't really something she wanted to discuss, and certainly not with Mark, but he'd be devastated if he couldn't go, and she wasn't going to begrudge him a last chance to say goodbye. "You'd have to check with Dr Altman, but I don't see why not."

Meredith nodded absently, already moving on to other things. "What about when he goes home? He's going to need someone to take care of him. Heart surgery is a bitch to recover from."

Carolyn rubbed Meredith's knee soothingly. "Don't you worry about that. We'll take care of him."

Addison, however, knew that this wasn't a long-term solution. Soon enough, Carolyn was going to have to go back to New York, and then Mark wouldn't have anyone.

"I'm thinking of coming back."

Both Carolyn and Meredith turned to look at her. Their expressions were both surprised; neither of them was anticipating this.

"I just—things in L.A. are...different. The practice isn't the same anymore, and things are so complicated with Sam and Jake...I just need a change of scenery," she finished hastily, stopping herself before she dove any further into the mess that was her love life. She'd already disclosed bits and pieces—namely that she was in love with Mark—to both women, and really didn't want things to get any more complicated than they already were. "So, I mean, I can keep an eye on him while he's recovering. I don't think he'll mind."

The look on Carolyn's face said she clearly understood the true motivation behind Addison's decision to consider moving back to Seattle, but knew better than to say anything. She simply flashed a soft, understanding smile. "If you're sure that's what you want, than I think it's a wonderful idea. It would be good for Mark to have someone so close to him taking care of him."

"Have you talked to Sam about this?"

Meredith's question took Addison by surprise. She knew Sam's name was bound to come up eventually when she mentioned the possibility of her moving back to Seattle to people, but she'd expected it to be Callie or Miranda who brought it up, not Meredith. Her personal life wasn't something that had ever been of great interest to Meredith Grey.

"I—How did you know about Sam?" As far as Addison knew, Sam hadn't come up in their drunken revelations of nights ago, or at last not beyond a brief mention of him coming to town. Unless she'd mentioned the proposal. Oh God. She hadn't been _that_ drunk, had she?

Meredith's cheeks flushed a little. Obviously, she didn't want their night on the town mentioned in front of her mother-in-law either. "Well, Derek told me that he was coming to visit," she lied smoothly. Addison couldn't help being a tiny bit impressed at the other woman's authenticity. From past experience, lying was not something either of the Grey sisters had ever been particularly proficient at.

Addison sighed, shifting Henry in her arms. He whined briefly in discontent, and she experienced that all too familiar moment of panic—_oh God please don't wake up—_before he fell back into a contended sleep. "Why does everyone think the only reason Sam came here was to see me? Derek and Mark are his friends, too."

"Friends he hasn't seen in years," Meredith pointed out. "I don't see any of their old friends in New York coming all the way out here to see them."

"Well he wanted to bring Henry out. It wasn't fair to him for me to be away for so long," Addison said hastily, knowing the words sounded lame and not at all believable as they came out of her mouth. She didn't need the looks on Carolyn and Meredith's faces to tell them that neither of them believed her at all. She didn't even believe herself.

"Of course, dear. It's very hard for babies to be separated from their mothers when they're so young." Carolyn's tone was gentle and sympathetic, which only made Addison feel worse. She didn't want anyone pitying her. She knew why Sam had come up here—she was the one who had called him out when he said that he wanted to come and visit his friends—but she didn't really want everyone to be dwelling on it the whole time. There was no her and Sam. There hadn't really ever been a her and Sam—at least not the way she and Mark had been—she'd simply been trying to convince herself that this was what she really wanted, and that Mark Sloan and Derek Shepherd weren't the only men who could make her happy. She'd been devastated when he told her that he had broken their bet and slept with another woman—and also slightly relieved; the guilt she'd felt over sleeping with Alex had been killing her—only to find out from Derek that had all been a lie. Mark had been willing to hold out for six months for her, and she had had so little faith in him that she'd thrown it all away. All of this drama with Lexie, and Jake, and Sam could have been avoided if she'd been willing to open her mind to the possibility that Mark could change, and that was something she wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself for. Sam had been her way of trying to put everything with Mark behind her, though she now realized that things were never going to work between them. Derek was right, she deserved better. She owed it to herself to get out of this relationship before it was too late. Sam didn't deserve to be lead on, and she didn't deserve to be anything less than happy. And what would really make her happy right now was Mark, even if he didn't love her back.

"I, uh, I'd better be going," she mumbled, getting up from the chair. "It's nearly time for Henry to be in bed, and we should really be getting back to the Archfield." Avoiding the gazes of both of the other women, she bundled him into the stroller, careful not to wake him.

"You're right," Meredith said hastily, obviously not wanting to linger any longer. "Zola's probably getting hungry; it's almost dinnertime. We should be heading out too."

Carolyn nodded. If she noticed that something was off with her daughters-in-law, she didn't comment. Addison had a hunch that Carolyn knew exactly what was going on—she wasn't the kind of woman to miss these sorts of things—but she knew better than to say anything about it. "Why don't you get the girls ready to go and I'll stop in with Callie and see if Sofia can have a sleepover with Zola again tonight? That way she can stay with Arizona if she wants."

"Okay. Great." Meredith looked relieved. She obviously hadn't wanted to leave Sofia here all by herself, but hadn't wanted to take her without talking to Callie first either. "I'll just, uh, get their things together and we'll meet you in the lobby. Is Amy coming, too?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I don't think so, dear. I think she was going to see Derek and then she mentioned something about going out for drinks with Sam to catch up on what she's been missing." She paused delicately, glancing at Addison. "I suppose you weren't planning on joining them, Addie? I'm sure they'd love to have you."

Addison shook her head. The thought of drinking—in any quantity—made her stomach churn nauseatingly. Throw in Sam and Amy—who may or may not have figured out about Mark—and she was guaranteed to be running in the opposite direction. "I've really got to get Henry home. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Meredith nodded. "I'll be in sometime tomorrow morning to check on Derek."

"I'll see you then, I suppose," she said, trying not to sound too hasty, before making her escape.

* * *

Mark woke up sometime around supper, when Teddy came in to do her routine check. She seemed relatively pleased with his SATs, and, unlike many of the other people constantly hovering and pestering him, didn't seem particularly fussed that he was sleeping all the time.

"Rest is going to make you heal faster," she'd said, smiling. "And the sooner you're healed, the sooner you can go home."

Mark tried to force a smile as Teddy left. The thought of going home made him queasy. Home was a place that was full of ghosts—Lexie's in particular—and the thought of spending days on end closeted up with those ghosts was enough to make him seriously consider causing a cardiac arrest or something to keep himself in here longer. He knew that Teddy wouldn't be impressed—no one would for that matter—and he ran the serious risk of killing himself in his weakened state, but he couldn't go home. It was just too much.

"I hope you're still hungry, because I had to wait in line for twenty minutes to get this damn thing."

Addison's voice made him start, causing a sharp pain to flare across his incision site. He hissed, trying to keep the pain from showing too much on his face; he didn't want her to feel guilty.

She was in the doorway, a take-out box that he recognized as being from the restaurant a couple of blocks away balanced on the top of the stroller that he assumed must contain baby Henry.

To be honest, food was the last thing on Mark's mind right now, but he didn't have the heart to say so. The relaxed, happy look on Addison's face was something he'd seen so rarely since she'd arrived; so he forced a smile instead. "About time. I'm starving."

She rolled her eyes, pulling the stroller to a stop beside the bed and carefully setting the take-out box on the bedside table. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"You're not the one who's been salivating for soup all day."

"Yes, but I _am_ the one who stood in line to get it for you. And then spent another half hour getting back here in a car that smelled like soup. It was all I could do not to eat the damn thing right there," she replied, glaring at him playfully, like this was somehow his fault.

"Well, you were the one that offered."

Addison chuckled; green eyes alight with a teasing sparkle. "Who wouldn't after the way you were complaining?"

The old Mark would have had a playful retort, but his ability to pretend he was his old self was too exhausting for him to continue with the charade. The resulting silence was tense and awkward, neither of them knowing what—or in Mark's case, having anything—to say.

It was Henry who broke the silence, letting out an indignant wail from within the stroller. It was one Mark recognized from when Sofia was a baby: a cry for attention. Addison reacted immediately, gathering him up in her arms and murmuring soothingly. Watching her pace the room, bouncing Henry gently against her shoulder, he couldn't help noting how naturally parenting came to her, and wondered if it would have been like this with their baby.

"So you're a mom, huh?"

Of all the ways to broach the topic of Addison's newfound parenthood, that was perhaps the least smooth. In some far recess of his mind, the old Mark shook his head in disgust at the blatant lack of style.

If Addison noticed the unnatural bluntness of his question, she didn't let on. In fact, looking at the way she smiled radiantly at her son, he didn't even think she'd noticed. "I am."

It was getting harder and harder for him to begrudge Henry's existence; he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Addie this happy. He tried to think of something to say in response, but she beat him to it.

"Who'd have thought you'd be a parent before me?" she asked, shaking her head in amusement.

Mark shrugged, trying not to think about the fact that they could have been parents together.

"Sofia's a lovely girl," she continued, smiling. "You should be proud of her."

"I am," he mumbled. His daughter was perfect, and he loved her with all his heart, but he wouldn't ever stop wondering about the child that could have been.

"She looks so much like Callie."

"Yeah, she does." So much so that it was difficult to see any resemblance to him at all.

"And it's so convenient that you live right across the hall from each other. That way it's almost like her parents are still—"

"We could have been parents together."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, effectively cutting off whatever she had been about to say. He hadn't meant to voice that thought—the same one that had been circling around his head ever since he'd learned of Henry's existence—and while part of him wished he could take it back—the tortured look on Addie's face made him feel guilty—he was also glad to have it off his chest.

"We could have," she said, finally ending the agonizing silence that followed his outburst, "but I don't think it would have worked out."

"Why not?" he asked, trying to ignore the sting of her words. "Why didn't you believe in us, Addie?"

The question has been on his mind for years now, but he didn't realize how much he really cared about the answer until now.

Addison sighed heavily, expression pained. "Because I didn't want to be hurt anymore, Mark. And I didn't want my child to grow up without a father."

"I would have been there."

"But how was I supposed to know that? You played and flirted with every woman that walked by—"

"None of that was serious—"

"—and just when I thought you might actually be committed to us, to me, I find you with another woman. How was I supposed to raise a baby with you when I couldn't trust you?"

Mark blinked, stunned, her words like a punch to his gut. She couldn't trust him. With good reason: he hadn't exactly been a poster boy for fidelity. There was no doubt in his mind now that he'd ruined things between them, but he couldn't help wondering if she did, too. Did she still not trust him, or had she realized that he had matured over the years that they had been apart? "Do you still..."

"No," she said hastily. "Of course not. You're a different person now, Mark. I know that."

He gave a small, relieved smile. "Good."

"So I talked to Teddy, and she says you should be out of here within the week," Addison said cheerfully. He could tell this was a strategic question; she was trying to gage his reaction to the thought of being discharged.

The knife in his heart twisted just a little bit further and he tried again to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "That's great."

Addison pursed her lips; obviously she saw through his lie. "It is. Listen, we've been talking about—that is I..." she broke off, suddenly flustered. Mark couldn't imagine why. "Well, you're going to need someone to take care of you after you're discharged," she said in a rush. "And I was thinking of coming back to L.A. anyways and since you already have a place I thought that I—"

"Whoa." Mark held up a hand, interrupting the nervous stream erupting from Addie's lips. He hadn't seen her like this since they were in college. "You're moving back to Seattle?"

She nodded, blushing a little. "Yes." He could see her taking a deep breath, collecting herself. "Things are just...different over there. Besides, I feel like I never really got the full Seattle experience, you know? I was only here a couple of years. And it'll be so nice for Henry to grow up with Zola and Sofia right there."

Mark wasn't entirely sure what to think. On the one hand, he'd be more than happy to have Addie back here in Seattle again. Things hadn't been the same since she'd left. On the other hand, though, he didn't want to have to put up with Sam Bennett all the time. Mark knew with the utmost certainty that Sam was the wrong man for Addie, that she deserved way better than that cheating scumbag—which, he knew, was rich coming from him—and having to spend the rest of his life watching him and her together...he wouldn't do it. Not to mention he couldn't see Sam completely abandoning the practice he had worked so hard to set up.

"And Sam's okay with this?"

She frowned. "Sam?"

"Yeah. Aren't you two engaged?"

All the colour drained out of Addie's face for a moment, and then rushed back all at once, turning her cheeks a vivid shade of scarlet. "Um, no."

Mark tried very hard to ignore the mixture of relief and hope that sprung up at her response. "Really? Because Callie said—"

"He asked me," Addison said hastily. "But I haven't said yes. And I don't plan on it."

"Why not?" Curiosity pushed him to play devil's advocate. "He's a great guy."

She sighed, adjusting her grip on Henry so that she could run a hand through her hair. "I've just...realized recently that—It's just not going to work out."

"Does he know that?"

"No. But he will. Today. I'm going to go and tell him right now, actually."

Mark wasn't sure exactly what had brought all of this on, but was relieved to know that she had enough sense to realize what was good for her and what wasn't. "And then you're going to come back to L.A."

Addison nodded. "And I'm going to stay with you."

"Me?" This he hadn't been expecting.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you. Who else is going to take care of you once you're out of the hospital?"

He hadn't thought about that. "I—This is rather forward of you, Addie."

She laughed, but there was something that flashed in her eyes, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Nerves, maybe? Maybe if Addison weren't the queen of confidence. "Don't flatter yourself. Let's just say I'm trying to make up for...past mistakes. I'll swing by later okay?"

Mark watched, stunned, as she gathered her things and manoeuvred the stroller out of the room, Henry still balanced against her shoulder. Past mistakes? What was that supposed to mean? Was this her way of making it up to him for aborting their baby? Was she trying to give him the family he had not so subtly hinted could have been theirs?

He shook his head, suddenly exhausted. He was reading too much into this. She was just looking for a change of scenery, and he _was_ going to need help when he got out of the hospital. And better it be someone who wasn't constantly going to be making pity eyes at him or tiptoeing around like he was going to shatter at any minute.

But still. Living in the same house with Addison, the one woman he had never really gotten over?

_God help me, Lex. _


End file.
